Five Minute Slices: The Pizza Wars

Posted by agentcox under cell phone, charles cox, digital life, dining, five minute slices, pizza

I had often wondered if anyone would ever displace Papa John’s.

Not that I was asking for the sturdiest contender in modern life’s most unsuspected covert corporate war to wink and take a fall, but – well, maybe I’ve just been feeling nostalgic lately.

Let’s back up.

Earlier In My Life, ca. 1996

Your Author with Father

My God, what was I wearing? Anyway.

At this point – an obvious high-water mark in my life – I had a considered favorite in competing delivery pizza chains. Of the two actors in a then-smoldering pizza vendetta that was only about as post-adolescent as I was, there was really only one that got my business: Dominos.

I wasn’t drawn by corporate sponsorship, gimmicky ads, “technology” such as the now-rigeur and oft-copied “HeatWave” box, or even promises of punctuality – sure, I’d bitch if it didn’t get there soon, but come on, man, you think I’m really going to waste my time watching the clock? I was playing Pilotwings!

The Dizzying Heights of Modern Technology

Like all good business classes will tell you about corporeal profiteering, the answer lies in location. How big is your world when you’re fifteen? About as big as a five-block radius around:

• the highschool
• the library (nerds only)
• Patrick’s house (because he had the Super Nintendo)

I remember there was a Nickelodeon show back when that tried to explain that very concept (starring Scarlett Johansson’s now-beau Ryan Reynolds, of all people), a modern equivalent is generously provided by Family Guy’s version of One Tree Hill.

As I was saying. Dominos had the virtue of being there. Sure, I could have called anyone, but do you remember phone books? (Seriously, do you?) Thanks to an earlier, terrible experience trying to call “N. Atkins” for a date in junior high, I no longer tolerated those giant, raw dripping slabs of area code listings and plumber ads. It was local or bust: to this young, impressionable, sofa-bound soul, they were not merely a choice in a sea of readily-available competitors – they were The Italian Connection.

Anyway, feed enough pizza to a guy and he’ll start to like it. Years of this and upon each move to a new locale, not only did I gravitate to nearby Dominos in a sort of eerie balloon-to-sweater relationship, but I do believe I was physically repelled from neighboring Pizza Huts.

But the politics of mobility were undeniable – and I wasn’t the only one being influenced.

A quick chronology:

2001

Papa John’s introduces online ordering. Dan S. is the first in my circle to try it. I announce my skepticism to Jennifer, and then to the world via LiveJournal. I then call Dominos on my cell phone to order a familiar pizza, and go back to listening to Steely Dan.

2002

Jennifer moves out. My feelings on pizza don’t change, but I’m eating a lot more of it, suddenly.

2003

In a dark room, isolated, in secret, I try Papa John’s online ordering. Nobody questions my topping choices. Nobody overhears my credit card number. The pizza arrives, perfectly prepared.

I dismiss this as beginner’s luck.

2004

I try Papa John’s online ordering again, this time for a party. Everyone is satisfied and happy, and no phone calls were needed to accomplish this. Numbers, prices, and toppings could be confirmed visually (drunkenly).

Papa John’s is crowned new champion, and Dominos is solemnly, reverently, laid to rest and completely forgotten.

2005

Is my hair falling out back here? Anyway.

Everquest II integrates the /pizza function.

Encouraged at this news, I still refuse to try Everquest. In an attempted compromise, I enter a Pizza Hut. A sneak breadstick attack repels me out of the front doors and into traffic.

2006

Nothing happened.
I’m serious.

2007

Papa John’s unveils SMS ordering for pizzas.

Pizza Hut offers a free mobile phone with pizza purchase.

Finally, Dominos allows online ordering – six years after Papa John’s.

2008

Papa John’s and Pizza Hut both announce one-click desktop “widgets” for ordering pizza.

And Dominos announces this: the Pizza Tracker.

The last of which I discovered only today, by complete accident.

I watched, entranced, as the bar filled up, refreshing every few seconds – as “Thomas” prepared, baked, and boxed my pizza, then handed it to “Todd”, who later arrived at my door.

A prompt later asked me to rank both of my server’s performances from one to four stars. I ranked four stars all the way across, not only because I got my pizza on time and hot, but because the Pizza Tracker predicted it.

I feel myself falling in love with Dominos again. I feel the ghosts of old, creeping up behind me, full of reminders of glory days and spring showers, of the halcyon days of youth and…

What the hell? Aw, Jesus, I forget they cut their thin crust into those little squares. Why do they insist on doing that?

Man, I hate Dominos.