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| - Let me preface this by saying I actually felt compelled to make a Yelp account just to prevent other people from suffering the inexplicable ineptitude of the particular staff I dealt with during my visit to this location. My regular store is on 19th Ave. & Indian; they have never done me wrong, and I will never again go astray. Let me also just say that I have worked in pizza (in a real, from-raw-materials pizza kitchen), so I am not fooled. I know how pizza works, and my standards are the product of that experience.
During the dinner service on Saturday, August 29th, I visited the 43rd Ave. & McDowell location with three friends. I placed the following order for dine-in, and paused between requests to allow the crew member to input my orders: "I would like three large pizzas. The first will be the Giddy Up BBQ Chicken with a stuffed crust. The second will be the Pretzel Piggy on a pan pizza crust, but the order is for a vegetarian, so please make sure no bacon is added. She would also like to switch the standard Balsamic drizzle for a barbecue drizzle instead. The third will be the Garden Party, extra sauce and no cheese, please." The crew member read back my order, to the letter, and I went to our table to wait.
It goes promptly downhill from here.
First Incident: A server comes to the table with my friend's separate chicken wing order and drops her fork. She kindly offers to replace it, but when she does, she leaves the dropped fork in the middle of the dining floor. I'm sorry, why?
Second Incident: A second server come to the table to tell us two of the pizzas are ready to come out, but the third (my Garden Party) is being remade because cheese was added by mistake. Because I know that "no cheese" is a curveball request, this doesn't bother me too much, but now they have to trash a whole pizza, and that sucks.
Third Incident: My pizza arrives and, to my severe disappointment, I realize it is completely wrong. I hate being the complainer, but it's wrong enough that I need to address it. I approach the counter and explain to the same crew member who took my order that my pizza is incorrect. She says, "Yeah, you ordered the Garden, it has no meat." Perplexed by this response because it is wrong on so many levels, I say, "I realize what a Garden pizza is. I ordered the Garden Party, extra sauce, no cheese." To be clear, the Garden Party is defined as a Garden (Veggie) pizza to which three things have been added: a crust flavor edge, fresh spinach, and a Balsamic drizzle, all of which are what makes this a $15.49 item. I go on to say, "The pizza on my table lacks the crust edge I paid for, the spinach I paid for, and the drizzle I paid for. Thus, it is not correct." The crew member seems confused by my complaint and says, "Do you want us to add the stuff to it?" As calmly as I can through my annoyance because, no, you can't just add a new crust edge, I say, "Yeah, I suppose you can."
Not a moment later, I realize this process is not worth it, and I flag down the manager to request a refund. The manager, Daniel, was very polite and showed the appropriate level of remorse while making sense of my issues and processing my $17 refund, for which I was grateful. He also offered me a store credit, but because it would be specific to that location, I declined.
Fourth Incident: I return to my table and realize they've brought out my "corrected" pizza regardless, which I decide to consider a small victory at this point. One bite in, however, I find that they have managed -- once again! -- to drop the ball. The featured sauce drizzle for the Garden Party is the Balsamic. They used barbecue. I take a deep breath, process my First World Problems, and move on.
Fifth and Final Straw: As I eat my pizza with no more enjoyment left to spare for the meal, I am tasked with experiencing one final aneurysm. Now, when I placed the order for our table, I specifically requested two separate pizzas that have no meat on them. I even specified that one of us is vegetarian (I felt no need to mention it, as my pizza was inherently vegetarian, but I also do not eat meat), so I thought it would be logical to assume that the staff would take extra care to ensure no meat made it onto the pizzas by mistake. Apparently this was far too lofty an expectation, because I plucked a chunk of bacon fat the size of a dime off of one of my slices.
At this point, so baffled I was nearly crippled by the sort of laughter one only experiences when sanity dies, I resolved never to return to this circle of Hades cleverly disguised as a Pizza Hut.
Now, the carryout/delivery only location on 19th Ave. & Indian? You still have my heart.
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