Her eyes widen as he comes through the door. “Oh. You’re back.”
“More,” he says.
She rolls her eyes, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. We have a company policy.”
He stares blankly at her, “More.”
She murmurs under her breath, “Fine.” She turns back and gives a wave, “Scott, can you come here, please?”
Scott makes his way out of the back office and at the sight of him, “Oh, hey. What can I…?”
“More,” he repeats himself.
Scott shakes his head, “I’m trying to be polite because you’re a loyal customer…”
“I told you,” as he studies his blank stare, “we already put twice as much on here as we’re supposed to.”
“But you can’t keep coming back here asking for more cheese on your pizza,” Scott continues.
“Look at this!” Scott opens the pizza box on the counter to reveal… Well. There’s something under all this mozzarella. “We tried to add more, but the rest of the toppings weren’t cooking properly. You understand.”
He becomes teary-eyed.
Scott can see he’s on the verge of crying out in desperation, “Tell you what. If you want more, you’ll have to add it yourself…”
He reaches over the counter to grab a bag full of mozzarella.
“No, no!” Scott reprimands. “Not from us. You have to get it from the grocery store.”
He thinks it over. “But it doesn’t taste the same.”
Sigh. Scott closes his eyes and takes a breath.
“I want the kind you have,” he insists.
“You can’t. We have ours shipped directly from the Wisconsin center. Fresh, never frozen, I might add.”
TWO HOURS LATER.
His cell phone rings, “Hey, Mom! Can’t talk right now.”
His Mom gives a knowing sigh, “What are you doing, Eric?”
He replies, “Uuhhh…road trip. I have to go to Wisconsin. Need some more mozzarella.”