Jess M.

So to preface this review, I would like to say that I don't normally write bad reviews. I am a very chill person and don't let things get me riled up. I also work in food service and I know that jobs in food service can be demanding and stressful, and we all have bad days on the job. This being said, I would suggest avoiding Little Caesars on Garland. Not to be dramatic, but I would eat my own arm and give up my first born child before eating at this place again. My experience there was one unfortunate thing after another, something akin to experiences from A Series of Unfortunate Events. I began my trip by pulling up to the drive-thru and waiting between 5-10 minutes at the window for someone to acknowledge me. I held my gaze as I made eye contact with employee after employee, feeling a glimmer of hope at getting helped, and then having them walk away. That's fine, I thought, what idiot uses the drive-through at a pizza place anyhow, I'll just go inside. Buuuuuuuut, it only goes downhill. Going inside, I see only one other customer sitting in the store. Good, I think, surely I won't have to wait that long for my pizza as there is very little business taking place. There slogan is "hot and ready", and though I was cold since it was snowing outside, you can be damn sure I was ready for some delicious pizza in and around my mouth. After more awkward eye contact with employees only to have them ignore me again (I'm beginning to think I'm invisible at this point, which is a pretty bad ass super power), I finally have a girl acknowledge my existence (damn! Apparently I don't have super powers!). When I order I ask for some marinara, and I see on the cash register that she charges me $3.25 for it. I let her know that even the queen of england wouldn't pay that much for marinara, and without a word she roles her eyes and yells for her boss. He comes out, yells at her, presses some buttons, and walks in the back. She then rings it up and come to find out marinara is $1.44, too expensive for this poor college student. So I ask her to take it off. Should not have done that. She again doesn't say a word to me, just yells for her manager. When he comes out she says "I need you to take off this marinara... It's NOT my fault" then they both turn and glare at me. For that I want to deeply apologize. I didn't realize marinara was taken so seriously in the pizza world, but it kinda makes sense, my bad. Anyways, I finish my order, and sit down for what I'm beginning to feel is a long wait. Fast forward to the year 2053, we now have flying cars, teleportation, and time travel. I am still waiting for my Little C's pizza. Meanwhile in the back I've heard every single employee express how badly they want to go home. You and me both, yet we are both stuck here aren't we. There are a couple more customers who have come in and are waiting. I try and let them read my mind to go to another pizza joint, but alas non of them have super powers either and stay their course for hot and ready pizza. Finally, after waiting for no joke 30 min., I flag down an employee and ask him how long was left on my order. Without saying a word (I'm starting to think I'm at a little Caesars who only hires mute employees) he gives me the finger. OK not that finger, but the one that says I need you to wait one second. He walks in the back never to be seen again. At last, right before I'm going to get in my car to leave without my pizza, I catch a glimpse of my order. Though the employee shoves it in my hand without a word, I nearly skip out the door. I'm finally free. I have pizza and I'm free. Here's the interesting part about all this... want to know my order? A pepperoni pizza. What? You want me to say it again but louder for dramatic effect? I said A SINGLE PEPPERONI PIZZA! In all seriousness though, no one should have to wait that long for a pep pizza and the service was terrible. I wouldn't recommend unless you want to know the feeling of having the super power of invisibility. Based on this experience it wouldn't be as bad ass as it seems.