THE PIZZA WAR

I recently went on an antiquing trip with my parents.  Five days. 1,700 miles.  One car.  I know – it sounds painful.  But other than the unplanned stop prompted by a State Trooper and the pizza war in Salina, Kansas…it was perfect.

Now the State Trooper was no big deal.  I was going 78 on a four-lane divided highway and he thought I should be going the speed limit (which was 70).  Okay. Okay.  So it wasn’t the first time that someone told me I had a lead foot – but I think his request was fairly reasonable.  And since he didn’t give me a ticket – there was really nothing to complain about. 

The pizza war?  Now that’s a different story.        

It had been a good day – but a long one.  And by the time we got to Salina we were tired and hungry.  So we asked the young man at the front desk “If we are only going to be in Salina one time in our lives – what restaurant do we not want to miss?”   Immediately he told us that Salina, Kansas had the “Best Pizza in the World.”  Now that’s a bold statement.  I’ve had some pretty fantastic pizza in a lot of places including some sure-fire favorites like Italy, New York and Chicago.  But he was very confident of his recommendation – so off we went. 

I’ve got to admit – my first impression was favorable.  The place was packed.  The waitress was friendly and informative.  The big game trophies mounted on the wall were truly amazing.  And you just have to enjoy a local joint where the specialties consist of pizza, popcorn and beer.  

So we ordered the house pizza and settled in to talk about the day’s purchases.  It wasn’t long before a waitress walked by with a pizza – and it looked good.  Very good! The pizza had a thick golden crust and we noticed that the customers around us were dipping their crusts in honey.   Hmmm. 

And then we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Since my husband insists on ‘truth in story-telling” it’s only fair I disclose that a party of 50 came in 20 minutes after we were seated.  And since they had pre-ordered some of their pizzas…maybe I can forgive the wait.  But here’s what happened when our pizza finally hit the window: 

1.    The bartender took one look at the pizza – which had a burned crust – and said something to the cook who hit the pizza with a knife to knock off some of the burned pieces.

2.    The waitress then came to the window took one look at the pizza – which had a burned crust – and said something to the cook who once again hit the pizza with a knife to knock off some more of the burned pieces.

3.    The cook took the pizza out of the window.

4.    Five minutes later the same pizza re-appeared in the window.  The waitress once again said something to the cook.  The cook hit it one more time with a knife.  And then the waitress delivered the pizza to our table.

Now there is something you should know about my family.  We don’t complain and we don’t address conflict.  We try to make the best of a situation and we’ve been known to suck it up.  But I’ve been working on my conflict skills for years – so when the waitress brought us our pizza I took the bull by the horns and said, “This doesn’t look right.”  And when she replied, “Just try it” I backed down.  I tried a second time a few minutes later when I said, “It doesn’t look like your other pizzas.  It looks burned.”  And the waitress said, “No.  We ate one just like it earlier this evening.”

The score:  Visitors 0   Home 2

Since I was so easily defeated my mother took the third at-bat when she asked for a knife because the “crust was so tough.”  We all got knives – but very quickly settled for eating the toppings and leaving the entire crust behind. 

Obviously complaining wasn’t working so now we were reduced to grumbling. 

And that probably would have been the end of it, if the bartender had not asked my father (when he went up to pay for our $40 pizza) “how was everything?”  Since my father is a very honest man, he replied “not very good.”  So the bartender “kindly” called over the owner – also known as the cook – yes, you know, the man that hit our pizza with a knife and he asked, “what’s the problem?”  A man of few words, my father replied. “the crust was in-edible.”  The owner/cook then got the rest of the restaurant involved by asking the patrons within hearing distance how their pizza was…

No, I am not making this up.

…and of course there was a chorus of “fantastic.”  The owner/cook then asked my father “how much of the pizza did you eat?”  Now the entire room is looking at our table where we had piled up all of our burned pizza crusts.  And before my father could answer – the owner/cook asked my father if “he would be satisfied with 25% off?” 

Now hold on…

1. We would have been satisfied if the owner/cook had not sent out a poor product to begin with. 
2. We would have been satisfied if the bartender and/or waitress had refused to serve a sub-standard product. 
3. We would have even been satisfied if the waitress had honestly explained the situation and offered us alternatives when the pizza first came out of the oven.
4. And we probably would have been satisfied if the waitress had responded when we first voiced our concerns.  

But no, 25% off was not going to satisfy us.  And in truth, at this point nothing was going to satisfy us. 

And isn’t that the way it always goes when you try to cover up mistakes?  In the beginning people are willing to forgive and forget.  But the longer it takes for us to admit our mistakes – and the more effort we put into covering them up – the worse it gets.  And then many of us end up justifying our actions only to miss the very messages that would help us run better businesses and be better leaders, partners and friends.

So when was your last pizza war?  What side did you represent?  And in retrospect, what was your learning opportunity?