So Lope and I are hungry. We go through the usual married debate, what do you want…I dunno, what you do want… Anyway, we decide and I call a Chinese restaurant, that among other things, delivers…
Pit: I’d like to place an order for delivery.
Twit: You want it delivered?
Pit: (Suspecting where this is going) Yes.
Twit: Where are you?
Pit: (Provided address)
Twit: Is that in town?
Pit: Yes.
Twit: What are the cross streets
Pit:Â (Okay, perhaps this is brain surgery here, but if you owned a delivery restaurant, wouldn’t you own a map?)Â Provided cross streets.
Twit: Is that is town? What’s the zip code.
Pit: What’s your address (typing in background as I pull up google maps). Okay, put the driver on with a pencil and paper and I’ll give you turn by turn directions.
Twit:Â Sorry, he doesn’t speak English.
Pit: Lope, phone’s for you…
Lope wrote,
What he didn’t say was that I was napping and unavailable to go to the phone.
Crafty, yes?
Link | November 27th, 2006 at 10:42 am