Free is my Favorite Price

A hat tip to some incredibly effective pizza marketing. 

As we continue riding out this quarantine- me, from the epicenter of the pandemic in Queens, and you, most likely somewhere safer but no less boring- I want to share a light story about how a seriously mediocre pizza chain managed to get my business twice in a single week.

For context, I am not ordering very much delivery these days.  There isn’t a single reason for that, but a few complementary reasons: it places the delivery driver, and to a lesser extent me, at risk of infection; it costs money, at a time when money is tighter than usual; and delivery food is quite unhealthy*, which doesn’t pair well with the more sedentary mores of quarantine.

So our story begins last Thursday.  I was at my desk, on my work and personal email.  Like many people, my inbox is my work flow these days, so it’s Always Open, even if I’m doing something else.  A promotional email came through, one of those that eluded my various filters and unsubscribes.

It was from Dominoes.

They were emailing to remind me that I had accrued enough loyalty points for a free pizza.  Now, I’m not a huge fan of Dominoes, as their pizza is both unremarkable, and remarkably expensive.  Still, every four months or so, I forget that I’m “meh” on Dominoes and place an order.  Usually, it’s the thought of those lava cakes that gets me.  Then I eat their pizza, feel mildly unwell, and resolve not to do that again, a resolution I keep for approximately four months.

However, “free” is my favorite price, so after an ad-hoc meeting of the household executive committee, roasted veggies and beef stew were placed on the back burner (literally, and then put into tupperware for the weekend) and a pizza order was commenced.

With pizza, not unlike with sushi, my eyes are always bigger than my stomach.  The first pizza was free.  The other three items in my order were not.  The food lasted for two days.

Within thirty minutes after the delivery, another ping in my inbox: it was Dominoes, thanking me for ordering, saying that they had missed me, and giving me a special gift: a coupon for a free pizza, only good for seven days.

I muttered an expletive aloud as soon as I saw it.  My stomach was full of cheese, my mouth full of salt, and my mind full of a resolve that I would let that coupon go unused.

I really almost made it.

Then, today, the last day of the offer, I weighed the potential benefit of a free pizza against the more uncertain outcome of cooking frozen burger patties, and the free pizza won out.  Another order was placed.

While I have been writing this, the pizza arrived, accompanied by several other less-free menu items.  My fingers are leaving melted chocolate on my keyboard from the lava cakes.  This is one of those rare liminal moments of joy, between the first taste of sugary, fatty food and the inevitable carb crash to come.  It is a happy time, a wholesome time.

It won’t last for much longer, so I’ll enjoy it while I can.

So well done, Dominoes.  See you again in four months or so.

-AG

*”But Andrew,” I can hear you thinking, “there are lots of great options for healthy delivery!”  Yeah, but I don’t order from those.  Neither do you: don’t lie.

Published in: on April 30, 2020 at 5:49 pm  Leave a Comment  
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From the Belly of the Beast

My neighborhood is right in the middle of the NYC outbreak; here’s how we are coping. 

With Jackson Heights, Queens being featured so prominently in national media stories about the pandemic, I want to share what life has been like for me over the past month.  

Kelsey and I live in a two-bedroom apartment about a ten minute walk from the Junction Boulevard 7 train stop in Jackson Heights, right on the border with Corona.  Junction Boulevard is our main thoroughfare, and contains most of the stores where we ordinarily do our shopping.  

For the past month, we have been social distancing champions.  Most days, we don’t leave the apartment at all. I know many people leave to take brief walks, but the folks in our densely-populated neighborhood don’t seem to understand social distancing, and the few times we have been outside, we have had to “walk defensively” to create space between us and other humans.  For that reason, we are trying as much as possible to stay inside. 

This would be much easier if grocery delivery was still a thing, but it really isn’t.  Amazon Fresh lets us build an order, but won’t permit us to schedule a delivery. Same for Fresh Direct and Instacart.  For dry goods, I was able to make an Amazon Pantry purchase, but it took almost a month to be delivered. Oddly, alcohol delivery services are still running quickly and efficiently.  I can’t get a gallon of milk, but I can get pinot noir from multiple vendors, usually within two hours.  

I have been very fortunate to be able to work remotely, logging on to my work computer from home.  Work has been quite slow, as the courts are closed to all but the most urgent matters. My firm is taking a serious financial hit from the pandemic, and my salary has been temporarily decreased, though I have been promised I will get the deferred portion back when things stabilize.  I value job security very highly, so the disruption has been causing me some stress.  

On weekdays, I wake up a few minutes before 9, and log on to my computer, ready for the day.  I usually shower and change clothes mid-day. When I have work to do, the hours pass quickly. More frequently, things drag, and I alternate responding to work emails, throwing darts, reading, and browsing the internet.  COVID-19 news is everywhere, it is hard to escape.  

I have not been able to write as much as I would like.  There is something stifling about being cooped up all day.  I have, however, had a chance to improve my guitar-playing and my darts game.  I painted two acrylic canvases, despite my utter lack of artistic ability. I am reading steadily, which has been a challenge, since my ordinary routine is to read while I am commuting, a part of my life that is gone, and that I do not miss. 

A few days ago, I had to make a grocery trip, because we were out of everything.  The nearest grocery store is right across the street. They are metering people at the entrance, and only allowing a limited number in at one time.  I waited about forty minutes in a socially-distanced queue to enter, but then shopping went relatively quickly. Essentials are back in stock, and the lack of people in the store made it easy to maintain a safe distance.  Even for that brief excursion, I donned gloves and a face mask. We aren’t taking any chances. 

In the evenings, my routine has been to participate in video calls with people.  I have played virtual darts with someone else who has a board, and watched movies through an add-on app called Netflix Party, which syncs the playback and allows for chat.  Zoom has been a wonderful platform for remote socializing, and I hosted a seder for Passover with friends and family. I even managed to play a virtual talent show, singing and playing guitar.  

Fin, my 18 year old cat, is getting more attention and enrichment than he has had in years.  He seems happy about it, though I am certain this has disrupted his 16-hours-per-day sleep schedule.  

Every day at 7pm, we lean out the window to hoot, holler, and cheer for our first responders.  Unlike other parts of the city, not many people here participate, but a few do. It is nice to have camaraderie with strangers.  

I don’t know how much longer this pandemic will last, or how long it will be until we can resume our normal lives.  My best guess is that things will start opening up mid-May, but I intend to listen to public health guidance and do what I need to do in order to stay healthy.  My family had a COVID scare, which fortunately abated without harm. Some of my friends have lost people to the illness. It is a scary time.  

When this is over, I hope we will make some changes to the way we structure our lives.  The fact that so many of us can do our jobs remotely should cause us to question the need to spend hours each day commuting.  I have become even more committed to fighting for national health care, after seeing the debacle wrought by private health care companies that must prioritize profitability over preparedness.  

If we can emerge stronger, that will be a silver lining from this time of crisis.  I hope we get there soon. 

-AG

Published in: on April 14, 2020 at 8:59 am  Leave a Comment  
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