Momnesia

An Actual Conversation with a Mellow Mushroom Employee

AUGUSTA, GA. - Mellow Mushroom is like the abusive boyfriend you keep running back to. No matter how many times they beat you down, you have to go back. In my case, it's based almost entirely on the "Ezperanza" dressing and the Jerk Chicken Hoagie (not together). But there's always something charming about those significant others, isn't there? Else you wouldn't keep returning.

But every time we call in an order - and I mean every time - it's as though no one there has ever taken an order before in their lives.

"Okay, I'm going to call this in now. Last chance for changes!"
[Dialing phone]
[Telephone picks up.]
[Telephone slams back down again.]
"Crap."
[Dialing phone]
"Mellow Mushroom, um... can I help you?" a nasally teenage voice drones over the line.
"Yeah, don't hang up on me again!" I laugh.
"Um... did I hang up on you?" she drones. Do you remember the cartoon "Daria?" The way she talked? Like that, but without the ennui.
"Well, maybe not. Someone did. Listen, may I place a to-go order, please?" I ask.
"Um... yeah... let me get someone for you."
[hold]
She comes back on the line: "Mellow Mushroom, um... can I help you?"
"Yeah, it's still me. I wanted to place a to-go order?"
"Oh, yeah. Hold one."
[hold]
She comes back on. "Okay. What would you like?"
"I'd like a large Magical Mystery Tour, a-"
"Will that be all?" she interrupts.
"No. I'd also like a large with Italian sausage, portobello, green peppers and onions, and-"
"Will that be all?" she interrupts.
"Uh, no. I'm ordering for the office. I'd also like a calzone with mozerella, pineapple and feta cheese," I say, which I pronounce "fay-ta," because I have always pronounced it that way and no one has ever corrected me.
"Feh-ta!" Amy corrects.
"Fayta, feh-ta, whatever," I chuckle.
"Feh-ta," the stoner on the phone corrects me. Like she knows.
"Okay, and a chicken caesar salad, substitute chicken with jerk tofu, and - "
"Okay, you want a chicken caesar with.. what?"
"A chicken caesar, no chicken, sub jerk tofu."
"You want jerk chicken instead of regular?"
"No, I want no chicken. I want to substitute jerk tofu."
"Oh... so... okay... uh..."
"A chicken caesar salad. But instead of jerk chicken, we want jerk tofu. No chicken."
"Will that be all?" she asks.
"No. Almost."
"Sorry. I'm kind of new at this."
"It's cool. And we'd like a Spinach salad, with both esperanza and honey mustard dressing on the side."[silence] "Hello?" I ask.
"Oh, will that be all?" she asks.
"Yeah. That's all."
She runs through the order, stumbles a bit on the salad again, and then, lo, another salad confuses her, lettuce being all squirrelly and stuff.
"So, did you want the honey mustard on the side?"
"Yeah, and the esperanza, please."
"Well, um... it comes with the esperanza."
"Right. But on the side."
"But it's already there."
[silence. Now I'm confused.]
"But it's in the box, right?"
"I guess."
"But not on the lettuce. We'd like it on the side, please."
"Well, but it's all mixed up in there."
[sigh]
"No. We'd like the salad dry, with both dressings on the side."
"Okay, I guess."
We run through the credit card info. Without incident.
"Is that all I need to run a credit card?" she asks.
[Wait. What?]
"Um, I think so."
"But, is that all I need?" she asks again.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," I answer.
"Okay. I'm... I'm going to get the guy in charge to run this."
"Okay, thanks. We appreciate it."
"Okay. I'm really sorry. I'm new at this," she laughs softly, clearly embarrased.
"That's cool. Thanks for your help today," I chirp.

[We hang up. There are a few seconds of eye-rolling and snarky comments. "Put down the bong and take the order!" A.C. said.]

"Hey, Stacey," B.L. calls. "Did you use A.C.2's card?"
"Uh, yeah..." I answer, confused.
A.C. laughs: "It's over the limit!" [It's a corporate card. That would be bad.]
B.L. talks for a minute and hangs up the phone: "She wrote down the number wrong."
A.C.: "Big surprise there."

I could have made the pizza myself in the time it took me to call it in.