I will admit it without shame: now and then I want a Domino’s. The standard-issue pie with a lot of sauce can be good, and it’s cheap. Around 3:30 I called up the app, asked the wife what she wanted, tapped all the buttons, and ordered -
And then I realized that I hadn’t done the deferred delivery thing. You know, it asks you if you want it now or later, and if it’s the latter, the later latter, you enter the time. I had just ordered a pizza for immediate delivery at 3:52. This would not do.
Well, call the store. I did this promptly. Thirty seconds after I’d placed the order. The phone was answered promptly by a cheerful pre-recorded voice that identified my order, and said it was being made and would soon be on the way. If I had anything else to add, please stay on the line!
Minutes passed. Two, three. A torrent of noisy cheerful ads about Coke and gooey cheese and maybe I should drive for them, why not, make some money? I kept stabbing 000000 and nothing happened. The ads. Over and over. After five minutes I hung up and tried again. Same thing. If the hold announcements hadn’t been so LOUD and PERKY I might not have been pitched into the pit of red rage, but after five more minutes I was in a state of high dudgeon. Since I had the app open, it told me that the pizza was already in the oven. I was on hold, listening to this nonsense, long enough for the pizza to come out of the oven, whereupon it was subjected to the critical gaze of Hector, who was making sure it was right. So said the app. I stayed on the line.
The hold advertisements continued. I hung up and called again. The tracker bar on the app said the pizza was now out for delivery. To my astonishment someone answered the phone after six minutes, and I explained that I had ordered too soon, the option to delay the order wasn’t presented, and I had been on hold the entire time the pizza was being made, listening to these horrible ads, and no one answered the phone.
“The phones aren’t activated yet,” he said.
“What? What does that mean?”
“The calls go to a central location? I just picked up because I saw your name and that was the name on the order the driver just went out on.”
I looked out the window: there was a man in a Domino’s uniform standing in the middle of the street, looking around for a house number.
I should note that the house number is on the garage in plain sight.
The guy on the phone said he didn’t think his manager would have any problem cancelling the order and sending it back at 6 PM as I wanted, and apologized for not picking up the phone, but didn’t really apologize, since, you know, the phones weren’t activated yet.
Fine. I cooled down and headed upstairs, preparing for the afternoon nap. After four minutes Birch started barking, and I figured it was probably the pizza guy. Sure enough. At the door, six or seven minutes after he’d pulled up. We’re talking Jim Anchower here, mirrored sunglasses, scraggly facial hair, total Wisconsin vibe. (Sorry.)
I told him the order had been cancelled, and he gave me a blank look and said "no one told me about it" then turned around and walked back down the steps, and said "great way to start the day."
Okay, sorry. I understand. No one's happy today about any of this.
Was the charge for the order cancelled, though? I got a voicemail from the manager saying that it was, and if I wished to reorder I should call the number. At 5:30 I called the number, and asked if the order was coming out automatically, or whether I should reorder. the person on the other end - cheerful, too cheerful - had no idea and asked for my information, then asked what I wanted to order.
"Hold on - this isn't the store?"
"No. Would you like to talk to the store?" Yes please.
Five minutes on hold, listening to commercials. I hung up and made a Connie's frozen, which really is so much better. I don't think a better frozen pizza exists. Robust sauce, corn-meal sprinkled crust, a sensible amount of cheese unless you're the type who thinks that the point of a pizza is maximum mozzarella mastication. It was so good it made me wonder why I wanted Domino's in the first place.
Mea culpa. Never again. I'm cured. A free man. I repent.
Back to the worst serial I've ever seen. And in such good condition!
Oh, that one.
And that’s all the explanation you’re going to need, or get! Well, Carol was about to be crushed because she had passed out under a heavy iron door propped up by a pole that was being eaten away by Acid, this being the Acid episode.
Back at the Invisible Monster’s HQ, the most pathetic villain-hench conversation ever.
He needs scratch, so he uses the hench he’s placed at a law office. He asks him what he’s learned. And thus the second most pathetic villain-hench conversation ever.
Remember, he selected for his gang a bunch of illegal refugees from totalitarian states, and threatens to have them sent back if they don’t do his bidding. Real smart way to build a loyal crew.
The poor fellow says the magic words: “There is a merger pending.” That’ll throw off enough money to build the Invisible Army! He sends the company a blackmail letter, demanding $50,000 or he’ll tell everyone about . . . the merger! Then the markets will pounce or shy away, or something. Dale and Carol deposit an envelope full of fake money in the trash can, as requested, and stake out the drop. LITTLE DO THEY KNOW
The Invisible Monster is annoyed to find the envelope doesn’t have money, and throws it away. God, this really isn’t working out, I don’t know how I got a serial in the first place.
Cale and Darrow or Lane and Carol or whoever give chase, and this is surprising:
It’s usually not the dame that does the gat-work.
The good guys get their tire shot out, so Dale runs around the mountain to catch the truck on the switchback. He jumps on the truck, falls through the roof, and is captured by the Invisible Monster.
Mind you, this is episode 3; they’re eating lots of seed corn here. Capture usually comes much later, often resulting in a Dreaded Recap Ep.
Lane sends a message to the company saying “try this again, pls, I will meet you in a big black car”, but Carole knows about his Trick Pen with invisible ink, and decodes the message; it’s the location of the place where he’s held!
Yes, because he couldn’t possibly be in on the deal, and why get the professionals involved?
Turns out the plucky watchman is up for some gunplay, and - well.
I didn’t see that coming.
Also, I think that’s the Invisible Monster’s only car.
That'll do! Some matchbooks await your perusal.