Pizzas, Jungles, and Buddhist Monks

PIZZAS, JUNGLES, AND BUDDHISTS MONKS




         Due to certain attitudes and the definite fear of heavily funded corporate lawsuits I have altered the name of this particular franchise pizza provider. They are one of the largest ones in America if not the world. I am sure somewhere firmly entrenched in their vast organizational annals are many fine people that do actually care about their customers and have no problem accepting the likelihood of their customer's physical existence. This however, was those fine people's day off. I have substituted a fictitious and somewhat more fitting  name for my little story.

         I was on-line attempting to order my first ever electronically transferred pizza. This should be a simple deal right? Enticed by offers of deep pocketed discounts and quicker more reliable service, they had me at click here. This was carbohydrate collusion at it finest. Billed as user friendly, and offering to eliminate the dead panning,

         "Hello, PizzaHead. Please hold."

    This alone tipped the scales for me to attempt to simplify my world. Add into the proverbial pizza mix, the possibility of actually getting some Parmesan cheese and I was a salivating single, craving these culinary casseroles. Great. Perfect. Sign me up! Man, I can have this thing here in seconds! The Pizza Head is just up the block from my home. I can see the Pizza Head right from my window. Ah yes, the wonders of modern science and technology. This is the way to go. Why had I not tried this before? 

          Well according to the head master Pizza Head Headmaster, you'll be pleased to know I do not exist and neither does my dwelling dwell. Apparently, I am currently residing and writing from somewhere beyond the scope of the Grate and All Knowing head Pizza Head head's reality. Despite having previously used such primitive devices as the telephone countless times, to order both delivery and on certain occasions carry out items. I have actually presented my aging carcass before the Grand Sausage Sentinel himself for physical authentication. This however did little to verify my existence on this planet. After being told that I have officially ceased to exist and in spite of my now near nebulous condition, I was encouraged to have a nice day. Somehow this was of little comfort.

         Despite the perception of my now spectral presence on the planet I was somehow, moments later, able to receive a call via computer from the jungles of Laos. This from my dear darling daughter. Now a teacher and traveler admist the company of Buddhist monks. Now please understand, I am truly respectful of these self sacrificing and virtuous men. I have learned much from my daughter of the demands of their daily lives and of the vows they place upon  themselves. So I'm not totally off base in assuming, especially for these jungle encased outpost type monks, their possessions and technology pretty much peaks out at about a two chopstick each level. These are generally used for eating what food is given them. Nice. I hope people feed them well, odds are they ain't ordering in. Me, I just wanted a large, no fruit or fish, pizza.

         Call me a slow learner but it seems to me that if I can receive a phone call via my computer from directly across the planet, from the furthest reaches of a Laotian jungle, where I can only guess what two magic chop sticks were rubbed together to fire up the internet on a laptop and reach across oceans and satellites I should be able to order a pizza  from a half of block away. I did in fact have a pleasant conversation with my daughter and her Monk road dogs. These fine orange robed mystics, actually confirmed and accepted not only my existence as a senescent being but also the father of their English teacher thereby cementing in place my now questionable connection to this planet. I thought that was pretty special. I also thought I ought to at least hold enough Earth creds to order a pizza. These new facts failed to impress the Pepperoni Patrol on the other side of the web page world.
No pizza fa you... Next.

         Now most folks would have given up. Well, the smart ones anyway. Me? I'm relentless. Give me a cause. Give me a mission and I'm going to see it through, I am relentless I tell ya!. Yes sir I'll get 'er done. So here I am, now sixty seven minutes into my initial contact with the enemy, still hacking away at this issue of my unborness, though deemed live by both daughters and devouts. Experiencing little to no success I head off in a more old fashion and tested mode, the phone.

        “Hello Pizza Head. Please hold” click.

    I am back on familiar turf. Home field advantage. Surely with this comfortable medium I should theoretically produce pizza at my door in under sixty minutes, after all if they look up they can see me waving frantically to them through my window.

         Now let me state for the record, I have in fact been ordering foodstuffs and foodstuff type by-products from this establishment fairly consistently. I'm Italian and single. I have now done so for over three years. I live in the neighborhood. My down stair neighbor claims to be employed part-time by them. My address' existence  should be confirmed just by their employment records. They have my phone number and address for at least the last few of years.

         Just like always I call.
        I hear “Hello Pizza Head. Please hold” click.

        Several minutes later...
     
      "Uh,You still there?”
      “Yes I like to order a large supreme pizza.”
      “Uh, uh... you want this for delivery?”
      “Yes”
      “Uh, uh, uh. Address.”

        I give the slightly catatonic youngster my address

        "Uh, uh I'm don't have a record of you”
        “Well I just live down the street.”
        “Uh, uh, uh, uh.There is no address for that listing.”
       
          "?????"

        Hmmm, I think. I'm making progress! I have attained the status of at least 'listing'. Not quite human form, but at least it's a tangible. Progress. I smile and become hopeful. I repeat my address.

      “Sorry dude there's no address for that listing.”

      Huh? Now I don't even understand what junior here is trying to tell me.

    "Excuse me?" I ask.
    "Uh, hold on." click. This underage over coddled pin cushioned youngster says with metal grating static, placing me in a Bell tel holding pattern.

    "Uh Yeah Pizza Head, wazzup?"
    "Yes I'm.."
    "Oh you again, hold on." click, then uninterrupted dial tone...

      Things are not going nearly as well as I planned...

      Well finally, two and half hours and a short walk later, I was eating pizza. My point is that despite ardent strides and advances in science and technology, sometimes simpler is better. We often times get too easily caught up in the illusion of technology making everything faster, simpler, and easier. This too often is not the case, resulting in lost time and opportunities to just get it done. I have no clever last lines for this piece other than sometimes it’s just easier to stand in line verses on-line.