To whom it may concern:

 

I’m from Massachusetts, so I know three things: Brady is God, Yankees suck, and good pizza.  You honestly can’t throw a rock without hitting a pizza place in New England; everything from your mom and pop shop to the best (and worst) chains out there.  I love a good slice from my local pizzeria.  I love the warm feeling like I just got served supper by my Nonna (God rest her soul).  But sometimes I like to step outside the pizza box.  Sometimes I want to go somewhere where I know I will get consistency and quality.  And when it comes to those requirements, only one pizza place comes to mind: Domino’s, the be-all end-all of pizza restaurant chains.  That is until recently, when I had an experience that made me question everything I thought I knew about the pizza (and if I’m being real here, the people) industry.

The Broncos won last night.  I’m not a big football fan, but it was a good game.  Relaxed with my lady and had a couple of cocktails.  Winding down the weekend right, you know?  After only having some jalapeno poppers and Fritos during “The ‘Bowl,” we found ourselves ready for a late dinner.  What better way to scratch that itch than with our go-to Sunday night staple of Domino’s pizza?  It was right around 10:40PM when I placed my order online: 1 medium 12” pan pizza with mushrooms, spinach, sauce, and cheese, along with a marbled cookie brownie (the best).   I followed my order on the app.  I love that app.  Loved to see that it wasn’t long before Pedro was double checking my order before it was to be delivered to me.  Before I knew it, Ralph was on the road with my pie.  Right around 11:00PM, my doorbell rang.  It was Ralph.  I could see his PT Cruiser idling behind him in the distance, shining bright like a diamond, though there was only a soft glow from the street lamps above.  He was pleasant.  He was accommodating.  He was everything I wanted in a delivery man.  To show him my appreciation, I gave Ralph a $3 tip.  He handed over my feast as he turned around and headed for his mighty steed and rode off into the night. My attention soon shifted.  It was time to mangia.

I opened the pizza box to find a nice looking pie.  Aesthetically pleasing and smelled great.  I was hungry.  I was ready.  It was time.  I grabbed a slice as I settled in for pure bliss.  My first bite tasted good, but I noticed something was missing.  It was a little dry.  Why would that be?  Upon further inspection, I came to the realization that I had a sauce-less ‘za.  What’s a ‘za without sauce?  Glorified cheese bread, that’s all.  But that couldn’t be, could it?  Pedro himself had double checked the pizza!  Isn’t that the point of the inspection?  To make sure it’s ready for the customer?  There was an obvious breakdown somewhere.  I was understandably upset.  I said I wanted sauce, but I got no sauce.  It was disheartening.  This was Domino’s.  This is what they do.  This is their garlic bread and butter.  This is what brings home the finely chopped bacon.  They’re THE pizza guys!  I couldn’t continue with my sad excuse for a pizza, so I called up the store.  It was just a few minutes after I got the pizza (11:07PM to be exact).  I spoke to Pedro: the man, himself.  I laid it all out for him.  I could feel Pedro rolling his eyes over the phone.  “The sauce is underneath, you just can’t see it.”  Wow.  Pedro, I think I know where to find sauce on my pizza and, brother, it ain’t there.  He may have had a long day, but I was still a paying customer.  He was dismissive and unapologetic.  After stating my case he said, “Look, what do you want me to do?  What would make you happy?”  I explained that I didn’t want my money back.  I just wanted the pizza that I paid for.  With sauce.  I even offered to go get it.  I didn’t want to trouble Ralph.  He was probably waxing the PT Cruiser.  Gotta keep that thing fresh.  So Pedro concedes and agrees to make me a new pizza.  I thought this was the end of it.  Boy, was I wrong.

I pulled up to store and mentally prepared myself.  I kept my cool.  After all, we’re just a couple of pizza loving guys, right?  Why does there need to be a problem?  I rolled into the shop and introduced myself to Pedro.  Right off the bat, he insisted that there was sauce on the original pizza.  “It’s in the car if you want me to grab it and show you,” I offered.  He didn’t have time for that, apparently.   He brought out the replacement pizza and opened the box to show me his peace offering.  I should have known by the sly grin on his face that I was in for more than I bargained.  I took one look at the pizza and it was obvious that he really wanted me to know that he put sauce on it this time.  The mushrooms and cheese were practically swimming in the copious amounts of tomato sauce.  I would say the spinach was, too, but there was barely on there at all.  To add insult to injury, there were even a few stray olives on top.  Olives.  Was it because he saw the name “Panagotopulos” and thought that it would be funny?  Well, it wasn’t funny.  That’s the work of a monster.  I knew he did it on purpose.  And he knew that I knew he did it on purpose.  But I decided to be the bigger man.  I accepted my sauce-drenched pizza and went on my way.  I tried to make the best of a bad situation and eat a couple of slices, but it wasn’t working.  I let it be.  I sacrificed both of my poorly made pizzas to the trash lords.  What happened from there was up to them.

Now, I really don’t want to stop going to Domino’s.  It has been a staple in my family for generations (or, at least since it’s been in Chicopee).  I am willing to take another chance on Domino’s, as long as Domino’s is willing to take another chance on me.  I just hope that this letter serves as an eye-opener for the management in Chicopee and its surrounding district. This aggression will not stand.  Every customer is the most important customer.  I was polite and professional and as courteous as courteous can be.  But that wasn’t reciprocated.  I didn’t get the Domino’s love I’ve come to know and expect.  Pedro let me down.  He let the company down.  What we need is a little less Pedro and a little more Ralph.  Thank you for taking the time to read my complaint and for taking any required action.  Thank you and God bless.

Cordially,