In high school, I worked as a delivery order-taker at Pizza Hut. Hungry people would call me on the phone, and I’d take their orders (or try to) using a computer system that pre-dated Pong, even though it was 2002.
It was a crappy job, made worse by the minimum-wage pay and the fact that I had to try to upsell every order. That year, Pizza Hut introduced the ridiculously named P’Zone, and we were required to ask everyone who called, “Would you like to add a P’Zone to that order?”
Despite the fact that P’Zone commercials were running on every television station 20 times an hour, I’d almost always get the question, “Um, what’s a P’Zone?” Each of our computers had an index card taped to it with talking points we were supposed to launch into.
“It’s like a pizza, folded in HALF!”
“Oh, so it’s a calzone?”
“Well, no! It’s more…it’s…um. Okay, yeah, it’s a calzone.” (I was not the greatest P’Zone advocate.)
Each P’Zone push took 10 extra minutes of explaining, which could seriously tie up the phone lines on a busy Friday night, and usually ended in a “Yeah, no. Just give me what I originally ordered.”