You know what I love? I’ll tell you.
I love how every time you call a Chinese or pizza place, they all give the same time frame when it comes to delivery time.
“That’ll be 30-45 minutes.”
We both know that time limit has nothing to do with how long it will actually take, it’s just something they’re programmed to say. In fact, I’m still unsure if it’s even a human saying that. It may be an automated message, we’ll never know.
Point is, after you place you’re order, your hungry desires exist in the ether, floating along until some stranger with your phone number and address totally makes your night.
The longer the wait, the better the feeling. How many times have you had this thought, just prior to the call… “I’m going to call [the restaurant]! What is taking so long! Maybe they can let me know what the gosh darn hold up has been!”*
Then, of course, the call comes and it’s like you’ve never A) received a phone call or B) eaten anything in your life. It’s pure bliss, and you’ve yet to even eat a thing.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Ordering Chinese food, asking for Chili oil, having them yes you to death that it’ll be in the order and it isn’t. And the guy is gone. And your night is ruined.
*Side bar: I should note here, there’s few things more ridiculous than the above thought, which I have had many times. What on Earth are the people at the restaurant going to say, aside from “Yes, he’ll be right there” or “We’re on our way”. It’s a fruitless exercise on both sides.
scott spinelli 