After catering a brunch last Sunday, I did not feel like cooking dinner. I also did not feel like going out. I decided to get a pizza and bring it home. There are not many pizzas worth eating in Atlanta, and even fewer in my immediate area.
Mama Mia’s in Stone Mountain Village does a decent job, although they do not deliver. I called to order a pizza, which I would pick up. The woman on the other end of the phone apologized and said they close at 4PM on Sunday. She was there for a private party.
Bambinelli’s is another acceptable pizza. They, like the folks from Mama Mia’s, are transplants from New York. Both families have been in Atlanta for more than two decades.
I called Bambinelli’s in Lilburn, a location that has not been open that long. It is located 6.1 miles from me. The man on the phone informed me that they would not deliver to me, but the original location at Northlake would. I found it strange that they would not deliver to me because they are not that far, about ten minutes away. The man assured me that the original location would deliver to me. He used to deliver for them.
I called the original location and was asked for my phone number and address. The man then said, “You know we don’t deliver there?” Well, of course I know that! I was just bothering random retards on the phone and you are the object of my attention. Lucky you! Actually, no, I don’t know that you don’t deliver here. I told the guy that the man at the other location said I could get delivery from the original location. The next stunning response was; “Well, he doesn’t work here!” Really, both are Bambinelli’s restaurants owned by the same family. Somewhat taken aback by the employee’s curt attitude, I said the other man told me he used to deliver for the original location and he assured me that I could get delivery.
The next response was simply dismissive – “Well, I don’t know what that’s about.”
At that point, I simply hung up. It was not because I wanted to be rude; it was because I saw no merit in continuing the conversation. There was obviously no desire to secure an order from me, let alone provide any level of customer service. Here is the kicker; I started my search for an edible pizza with the intention of picking it up. Mama Mia’s does not deliver and I was prepared to drive there. I would have done the same for a Bambinelli’s pie. Perhaps a better approach would have been to apologize for the confusion and ask if I would like to place an order for pick up. Maybe they could have even delivered the pizza. I live ten minutes away.
This should not have come as a big surprise. Some time ago, while eating at Bambinelli’s, I ordered a bottle of Banfi wine and was delivered a bottle of Il Villagio wine. I informed the waiter and he apologized. He went to investigate and returned with the stellar answer – “That is our Banfi.” Really! I would like to sell you a Mercedes Benz. Yes, I know the car is a PT Cruiser, but is our Mercedes Benz. Both manufacturers have the same owner, but they are differing quality levels and therefore have different names. THEN, my wife found a large shard of hard plastic in her food. All the while, the owners where sitting at a table and enjoying themselves. No follow up was attempted, and the management never visited us once. It is a mystery to me how such a place can stay in business.
I ate polpette di melanzane (eggplant meatballs), and rigatoni with a spicy sausage and onion sauce; food that I made myself in less time than it would have taken to get a pizza delivered or picked up. I was just looking for a bit of convenience and a pizza.