Sometimes the simplest of habits or routines we take for granted, like say; riding on a bus; waving goodbye to someone you love, CD burning, cassette duplication, Internet service, good clean water, having the freedom to say what you like or do and above all, ordering a pizza.Depending on where you live or who you know, some of these very basic needs which we rely heavily on, might be useless elsewhere. Where I live, thankfully we have all of these things, especially having the ability to order a pizza at any time of the day.
Yet, when I traveled to the Golden Valley Of Happiness a few years ago, this was not the case. As it happens, my parents, the most honorable, Rex Pater Homo & The
What does having a "true address" mean? Well, it simply means that the post office will more than likely recognize where you live.
Unfortunately, for my parents they had to fight tooth & nail in order to get the post office to recognize their given address as assigned to them by the city within the Golden Valley Of Happiness. This craziness carried on for about three to four years until they were formally recognized by the post office.
In the meantime, letters that I was sending to them were being returned, bearing the familiar red-stamped “Return To Sender-Address Attempted, Unfound.” My parents felt all along that it was a decision between the city and the post office and not have the burden placed on them.
Sometimes governmental agencies can get so petty and stupid, all in the same breath…imagine that! And that’s exactly what they did when they passed along the bureaucracy onto my parents. They didn’t deserve it. It took several months to straighten the situation out, but in the meantime, sometimes the mail would manage to slip through.
A few years ago during that time period, I tried my best to do what I take for granted in normally in suburbia and the city and that is ordering a pizza.
I was kind of getting tired of home-cooked food, which is always a surprise, in light of the fact that I absolutely LOVE & ADORE The Arizona Babe’s home-cooked meals, but as it happened, I just had a taste for fast food pizza and so I began looking in the local Golden Valley Of Happiness Yellow Pages.
I found a Domino’s pizzeria close by and called them up, and attempted to order a pizza. When I gave them the address, I was told, that “you don’t exist.” I retorted, “What do you mean we don’t exist? We’ve been here for a few years already.” Well, according to the pizzeria’s computer database, my parent’s address didn’t exist and you know how it goes if a computer doesn’t recognize you.
I called a few more local pizzerias and received the same run-arounds. By this time, I was getting really frustrated and angry with being out in the desert, just because I couldn’t get what some Americans call “basic desire.”
After some strategizing and a few deep breaths, I phoned a few more pizzerias and was told the same mantra over and over; you don’t exist!
Finally, I found a pizzeria that actually recognized the address and told me that they could deliver, but I waited for them to drop the ball and tell me they were mistaken and you know something? They didn’t! I had that pizza within 45 minutes, hot and fresh.
I give that company, Jimmy John’s a great deal of respect as well as my business now whenever I order a pizza; after all, if a company is willing to go all out for a customer in the middle of the desert, shouldn’t everybody?
Fuck Domino’s and all those other pizzerias; they don’t stand a ghost of a chance when it comes to a reliable pizza joint like Jimmy John’s.
Besides, where the hell else can you walk into and get free smells?
