The Great Hawaiian Heist: A Saga Of Slow Math and Lost Slices

We did not know we were playing Pizza Games: Iloilo Edition, that afternoon, where the rules of geography, economics, and basic addition are optional, but the "20-minute wait" is eternal.

Yesterday, a simple quest for a ₱79 Hawaiian Buy-One-Take-One turned into a high-stakes psychological thriller. 

It was a journey that took us from the affordable borders of SM City Iloilo to the "Premium Republic of Festive Walk," and eventually to the brink of a medical emergency - a potential stroke.

In the mysterious world of Pizza logistics, the 500 meters between SM City Iloilo and Festive Walk is apparently an international border crossing - like crossing the Rio Grande River to McAllen, Texas, USA..

• SM City: ₱79 for two slices. (The "Cubao Price," at Geta Way Mall, is the same as legend has it.

• Festive Walk: ₱99 for the same two slices. We know it by heart because only Spinach Pizza costs P99.

The Satire: Does the flour at Festive Walk contain gold dust? Is the pineapple harvested by vestal virgins? 

Or is there a "Walking Fee" hidden in the dough? It’s the same company, the same oven, and presumably the same ham—yet, somehow, the air at Festive Walk is 25.3% more expensive?

At this rate, if you buy pizza at the airport, it might cost you a kidney and a down payment on a condo.

My first issue with the service is the take-out crew. The crew is said to be the "mirror of the company," but this particular mirror was clearly covered in grease and confusion.

• The Atmosphere: There were three crew members, but they were clueless that customers were waiting. There was a long queue, and we were privy to listening as ear-witnesses to their conversation punctuated by loud guffaws and giggles about everything except pizza.

• The Math: Watching the cashier handle change was like watching a computer from 1995 try to run a high-definition video. She wasn't just "calculating"; she was experiencing a mathematical crisis over a ₱20 bill.

In a hospital where I am working, every second counts; a one-minute delay is a disaster. 

At the Pizza Outlet in Festive Walk, a one-minute delay is just the preamble to a twenty-minute symphony of incompetence.

Then came the climax of our tragicomedy. Four glorious, cheesy slices sat on the tray. 

We were ready. The math worked: there were two of Us (Michael and I) 2 people x 2 slices = 4 slices. It was a geometric destiny.

-The Twist: The crew decided to pull a "Robin Hood in Reverse." They gave two of our slices to a customer who was already inside, leisurely dining, and probably hadn't even started eating yet.

-The Crew's Logic: Why give the pizza to us standing at the counter in a hurry, when they can reserve it for someone who is currently sitting down, enjoying the air conditioning, and hasn't even noticed the "heated argument" about the two slices of pizza happening ten feet away?

When we pointed out the obvious—that the other customer could wait for the next batch since they weren't going anywhere—the crew stood their ground with the stubbornness of a mule guarding a bridge. 

Spoiled brats ... was that the orientation they received on their first day of work?

-The Firm Statement: "If you want the other two slices, you have to wait for another 20 minutes."

-The Reality: In the Philippines, "20 minutes" is a mystical unit of time that can last anywhere from 45 minutes to a full lunar cycle.

Why was there no "advance cooking"? In a mall full of hungry people, the Pizza outlet decided to cook, but prudence dictated they had to wait and see.  Kapag magluluto ng marami… baka sumobra at hindi na mabili.

They cook "patingi-tingi" (in bits), as if they’re afraid that if they make too much pizza, the smell of the pizza will alienate customers and drive them away.

We were raised on the dictum that "The Customer is Always Right." 

But at this branch, the dictum was: "The Crew is Always Tired and Does Not Care About Your Schedule." Or how hurried you are.

I offered a compromise. I offered a reason. I offered a way for everyone to get the pizza they needed without spiking their blood pressure. 

But the crew’s judgment was final. It wasn't about "business side" logic; it was likely about the "I don't want to wash an extra tray" logic.

We walked out of that mall with two slices of pizza and a blood pressure reading that could power a small village. 

Something is really wrong. As customers, we were the ones adjusting instead of the crew adjusting to us.

Yes, the pizza is thick. Yes, it is tasty. Yes, it is cheesy. But it turns out, the "Special Promo" at Festive Walk includes a free side order of Ineptitude and a large serving of Existential Dread.

The Lesson? If you’re in a hurry, don't ever make side trips that will turn an ordinary afternoon into a stress-packed itinerary.

You end up more tired and angry ... remembering only the hustle and the bustle ... and forgetting the thick pizza, how delicious they are ... and once cut, it's dripping with cheese like molten lava.

I just have to remind the pizza supervisors, though... (I should have had a talk with them that afternoon). Please check how your crew on how they deal with customers.

Food crews drive customers away permanently primarily through a combination of rude behavior, indifference, and poor service quality, often stemming from undertraining or burnout.