My letter to Papa John's

Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll -- you people support me without even knowing my complaints! That's what friends are for.

Here's my letter I'll be mailing to Papa John's on 9th and Mississippi. Read it, let me know in the comments section -- am I justified in complaining, or do I expect too much from purveyors of pizza pies?

To: Manager, Papa John’s on 9th and Mississippi Street
From: Seth Jones

Dear sir or madam,

I believe you owe me my money back. At the very least, I would like to get my $1 tip back, based on principle.

I came to your restaurant last Friday for the first time. I live on your side of town, so I thought, what the heck, I’ll give this new Papa John’s a try.

Oh, how I regret that decision.

I went to Papa John’s in search of a fast meal for me and my family. It is the sole reason I chose to frequent Papa John’s that day.

Upon entering PJ’s, I was greeted by no one. Sure, there were 10 people working furiously on making pizzas, but no one acknowledged my presence. I stood there patiently hoping someone would say something to me. Finally, a young girl acknowledged that I was there to buy pizza, and she enabled me to do just that.

I could tell that PJ’s was busy. I was there to make a to-go order. I don’t know by what system PJ works when it comes to satisfying walk-in customers, but if me ordering a pizza at that exact moment was an awful mistake, I would expect the friendly cashier to clue me in on such a thing. She could ask if I were in a huge hurry, or if I needed to run a few errands, like getting my taxes done, or reading “War and Peace,” as it may take that long to get me a pizza. But by silently taking my money (and my $1 tip) she left me hanging by not telling me it would be almost 30 minutes before I could leave the restaurant with my pizza.

I paid for my order and sat down. I watched the pizzas churn off the assembly line at an admirable pace. I could tell there was a large order placed – your employees were furiously loading pizzas into large plastic containers. Bully for them on working hard to fulfill that large order.

But what about me, the guy ordering one lonely pizza? If I’m to be stuck at the end of the pizza assembly line, couldn’t I at least be forewarned? Sure, I would have probably taken my business elsewhere that day, but there would have been no hard feelings and I would still be your customer. Instead, I watched 100 pizzas roll out of the oven, but apparently, I was not important enough to sneak my one pie in-between pizzas number 47 and 48 or even between pizzas 82 and 83. I would have to sit and wait until pizza 100 was encased in cardboard before my order would even be considered.

At the 15 minute-mark, I inquired about how much longer my pizza would take. The young woman politely informed me that they had a large order submitted, and my pizza was ‘in the oven’ but not ready at that exact moment. The pizzas continued to pile up behind her while she told me this. Being a patient person who never raises his voice when dealing with customer service people (I worked my way through college as a waiter), I begrudgingly accepted my fate at the end of the pizza line.

I sat at a table this time, expecting my pizza would be ready at any moment (It was in the oven, after all!). The large order seemed to be done now, so the young lady decided to help herself to a slice of pizza from the single-slice rotisserie near the register. She enjoyed her slice while I sat there and lingered.

Finally, after arriving at Papa John’s 27 minutes earlier, my pizza was ready. Apparently the fumes coming off my head were visible, as the young woman sent a young man to do the hand-off, and deliver the pizza to the angry man waiting in the dining room. He nervously handed me my pizza, speaking barely above a whisper. Somehow, the young woman must have known I was absolutely going to ask for my $1 tip back.

Good news – the pizza tasted great. My family enjoyed the pizza once it finally made it home. Also, the price was reasonable.

It was just the treatment and service I received at the restaurant that tarnished this experience.

If you agree with me that 27 minutes (longer if you consider the time I was roundly ignored upon entering the store) is too long to wait for a pizza without any prior warning, then I will gladly accept a refund of my money and will consider this a rare exception to your usual service, and I’ll again try your pizza place (and I’ll take this letter off my blog and also tell my friends that it’s OK to eat there). If you disagree and believe that 27 minutes is an acceptable amount of time to wait, you will hopefully at least send me my dollar back, because we both know that service that slow, without any forewarning, does not deserve the $1 tip, especially for the simple act of ringing in food.

Thank you for your time, I look forward to your response and hope that this first trip to Papa John’s on 9th and Mississippi was an aberration.

Sincerely,



Seth Jones