returning pizza (m)

We ordered pizza on Sunday afternoon while watching the Patriots' game.  My mother had one slice and said it "sucked."  I took a look at it.  Definitely undercooked.  Sam didn't eat it, neither did my husband.  Harrison was at crew practice.

That left me.  All alone, in the kitchen with 7/8 ths of a pizza.  It smelled wonderful.  The cheese was dripping, the box was stained with oil. It would not have bothered me to eat it.  Much as I was tempted, I didn't succumb.  Instead, I wrapped the slices up in tin foil and placed them in the refrigerator.

Yesterday, I picked up my mother and brought her to my house.  She saw the pizza in the refrigerator and said "You really should return this.  You can't let them get away with this."  She thinks everyone is in a giant conspiracy to get her.

Of course we went to the pizza place in the next town.  We pull up to the joint and my mother says, "I'll wait in the car."  Nice.  She throws me under the bus.

I walk in with the pizza in a Zip-Loc baggie.  The woman at the register looks incredulous.  I place the pizza on the counter and explain that I would like a refund. 

Cashier: When did you say you got this pizza?
Me: Uh, Sunday afternoon.  During the Patriots' game.
Cashier: Really?  And you want to return it now?
Me: Uh, yes.  Please.
Cashier: What's wrong with the pizza?
Me: (gaining confidence).  As you can see, it's clearly undercooked.
Cashier: Well, why didn't you call us right away?  We would have delivered a replacement immediately.(the cook comes over to take a look and shakes his head.  A new customer comes in and is staring at us.  I decide THIS is the low point of my life).
Me: (losing confidence).  Uh, I was too busy.  (How am I going to tell this girl my mother made me do it?)
Cashier: (thinking I'm a mental case...now she's speaking slowly to me).  Okaay.  I will give you a credit for a new pizza for when you call next time.  Would that be all right?  Are you okay with that? (she's speaking to me as if I'm a 4 year old).
Me: (I can't even speak at this point I'm so humiliated).  Yes.  Thank you.

I crawl out of the store and get in the car.  I make a vow never to go there again or order pizza anywhere for the rest of my life.

My mother asks, "Did you get a refund?"  I tell her I got a credit and I'm satisfied with that.

As we are driving away, I hear her mumble in the back seat, "You should have gotten a refund."