Posted on 02/25/2016 5:06:44 PM PST by 2ndDivisionVet
Hey, Domino's, sweet ride!
Behold the Domino's DXP (Delivery eXPert), a modified Chevrolet Spark tricked out with a warming oven and space for 80 pizzas, sides, two-liter bottles of soda and dipping sauces. (The driver's seat is the only seat, because, like cowboys, pizza delivery dude/-ettes ride alone.) There's even a puddle light that projects the Domino's logo onto the ground. (Please, no jokes about the gutter being the perfect place to see this particular brand's emblem.)
Alas, the DXP isn't shaped like a slice of pizza, but we can't have everything in this life....
(Excerpt) Read more at adweek.com ...
One of the funniest Freeper posts ever!
The last time I had a Dominos pizza delivered was 1993. I opened the box and everything was on the side of the box. I was so mad I drove back to the pizza parlor and threw it on the counter. Then said rather loudly “keep your crap”. I walked out and have not been to a Dominos since.
If people think customer service is not important think of all the pizza I never ordered from them again. I eat a lot of pizza.
So if this helps improve customer service it is money well spent. Me I will never know since I will never buy another pizza from them.
Oh and that pizza parlor has since closed down. Not enough repeat customers I guess. To bad it was a great location for one.
You haven’t missed much. It’s really not what I would call “pizza”. Then again, I was born and raised in Brooklyn so I’m pretty particular.
For the deliveries to gun-free zones they can equip the cars with aimable cans of wasp and hornet spray with an option of an ignition source for maximum self-defense capability.
You can’t really see the Pedals very good. The High Handle Bars would be a worth while option, ..... If they came with streamers!
"The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. Unlike a bimbo box or a Burb beater, the Deliverator's car unloads that power through gaping, gleaming, polished sphincters... You want to talk contact patches? Your car's tires have tiny contact patches, talk to the asphalt in four places the size of your tongue. The Deliverator's car has big sticky tires with contact patches the size of a fat lady's thighs. The Deliverator is in touch with the road, starts like a bad day, stops on a peseta.
As he scrunches to a stop, the electromechanical hatch on the flank of his car is already opening to reveal his empty pizza slots, the door clicking and folding back in on itself like the wing of a beetle. The slots are waiting. Waiting for hot pizza."
Probably the best writer alive today.
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