FAMILY MATTERS
Misunderstanding bubbles over in pizza delivery
By Ka'ohua Lucas
"Yep, you've got it!" my husband said with authority.
"That's two large pizzas, one with pepperoni and the other with olives. How long will it take to be delivered, 45 minutes? OK, fine," he said, resting the telephone handset in its cradle.
It's been a family tradition to spend a relaxed evening on Fridays. We usually rent a couple of movies and have pizza delivered to our home.
I'm not a pizza fancier. But my husband and two boys are connoisseurs. They know which pizza joint has the best pizza, which place bakes their pizza with little or no oil. They know which one gives more pepperoni. They tell me that the large at one pizza place is smaller than the large elsewhere.
Almost every Friday we order pizza from the same pizza place. Sometimes our favorite place takes longer to deliver than promised.
The other Friday, the pizza guy was running late. And my husband was hungry.
"He should have been here already," he grumbled. "It's been well over an hour."
"Why don't you call and lodge a complaint?" I teased.
As soon as I said that, a car pulled into the driveway. My husband leaped up and went out to pay the pizza guy. Seconds later he hollered for my 9-year-old to bring him the phone.
I could hear him telling the pizza driver to "hold on while I call your manager."
Oh, gosh. Now what happened?
"I ordered two large, not two medium," he said into the mouthpiece. "Plus, this guy's telling me I owe him more than what was quoted to me over the phone!"
"Sir," the delivery person said, trying to signal my husband.
"No, I didn't order two mediums; it was two large for $19.88."
"Excuse me, sir," the pizza guy said in another futile attempt.
"I've been waiting for my pizza to be delivered for well over an hour, and when it's delivered, the order is wrong!" my husband barked at the manager.
"Sir?"
Then, I heard a door slam, the car start up and the pizza guy drive away.
My husband returned to the house with the telephone handset still plastered to his ear.
Speaking in a relatively controlled voice, he said to the manager: "Your driver has just driven away with my pizza!"
In early Hawai'i, there once was a Hawaiian man who wanted to trade with a group of foreign sailors, using some kapa he had made from mamaki bark.
Neither party spoke the other's language. The sailors asked, "How much?" The Hawaiian man thought they had asked what kind of kapa.
So he responded, "Mamaki."
Again, the sailors asked, "How much?" which sounded like "hamaki" to the Hawaiian man.
In exasperation, he said, "I say 'mamaki' and you say 'hamaki.' How are they alike?"
And so that 'olelo no'eau (wise saying), "Mamaki aku au, hamaki mai 'oe. Pehea ka like?" is said of two people who misunderstand each other.
Just as my husband hung up the phone, a car pulled into the driveway.
My husband stormed out of the house with his money in his fist to face the pizza guy who had left in a hurry.
Within seconds, my husband returned with two boxes of hot pizza.
"So, what's up with that?" I asked. "Why did he leave and come back?"
"Actually," my husband said, "I think I yelled at the wrong guy."
"What do you mean?"
"The first guy was from another pizza place, and he was delivering to our neighbor's house. I guess he came to the wrong house."
"I think you should call and apologize," my 12-year-old said.
"Son, it was a simple misunderstanding," my husband said, biting into a slice of pizza.
I can only hope that the put-upon pizza driver reads this column.
Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.
