“Come here…” he said to me, playfully. He was drunk, but he had piercing blue eyes and a cute, scruffy face. He had been standing at the register for some time now, not buying anything but standing and flirting drunkenly with my straight coworker and I. The pizza place was empty, my boss nowhere to be found. I didn’t know what to do, so I walked over to him.

“Can I hug you?” he asked, stumbling while attempting to stand still. I looked around, hoping my boss would tell him to leave so I wouldn’t have to decide what to do. I was alone. My coworker was busying himself with folding pizza boxes in the corner, hoping that the man would leave him alone. There was no escaping this situation- I would have to do something.

“Maybe if I hug him he’ll leave,” I thought foolishly.

“Sure,” I said, and gave him a hug. He turned his scruffy face to my neck and started to nuzzle. I immediately pulled away, realizing that I was, in fact, an idiot.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I said.

“Aww, why’d you stop? I want you to be my husband,” he said to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I walked away and hoped that my boss didn’t see me hug this drunk customer. The customer walked away, thankfully, and headed down the hallway towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, my boss, who I’ll call Benji, came up to me.

“You might have to call 911, I think he’s passed out in the hallway,” Benji said to me. I looked down the hallway- the man, who I’ll call Alfie, was passed out standing with his forehead resting against the wall. A woman was talking to Alfie, trying to get him to respond. Benji put his face right next to Alfie’s and began talking loudly.

“EXCUSE ME, SIR, YOU CANNOT SLEEP HERE. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? DID YOU PEE HERE? WAS THIS YOU? PLEASE WAKE UP, I NEED YOU TO LEAVE.”

I looked down and saw that the floor was covered in water. Had Alfie peed himself? I hoped not.

“That wasn’t him, someone spilled something,” the woman said. Thank God.

Finally Alfie woke up and was escorted out of the building by the woman. She sat him down outside and started asking him questions, what was his name, where did he live, etc. “Shouldn’t you guys call the police? Someone needs to come pick him up,” one of the customers in the store said.

“Let me ask my boss,” I said. I ran to the back to ask Benji what to do about Alfie.

“Who cares? He’s outside now, he’s not our problem anymore,” Benji said. I didn’t know what to say to the customers so I just started folding boxes, hoping they didn’t think I was a bad person. Alfie eventually wandered off and hopefully found his way home, although to this day I still wonder what happened to the man who drunkenly asked me to marry him.


Yesterday when I arrived to work at 10 pm, I entered the pizza place and ordered my employee meal. As I sat down, I looked at the two customers sitting at the table next to me and immediately recognized one of them as Raven Symoné.

Let me tell you something about Raven Symoné. I was a huge fan of her show “That’s So Raven” for the better part of my tweens. I remember that there was once this contest where if you bought Danimals yogurt you could win the chance to go shopping with Raven Symoné, go to the beach with Ricky Ullman, or record a rap with Orlando Brown. I desperately had my parents purchase Danimals yogurt in an attempt to meet and hang out with Raven Symoné. I remember thinking that I should probably choose to meet Ricky Ullman, as that would be more manly as opposed to going shopping with Raven. But I knew in my heart of hearts that if given the chance I would have chosen Raven over anyone else. Sadly, I never did win, and shortly after the contest ended I gave up eating Danimals yogurt out of spite.

Back to last night. She was eating pizza with a female friend of hers, and I was instantly starstruck. What should I do? Should I play it cool? Should I say something? I decided to do nothing. I would pretend I didn’t know her- that was the safest course of action. I got a token for the restroom and immediately made a Facebook post about it. As I stood in front of the mirror, washing my hands and readying myself to go back out, her friend walked in on me.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she said, slamming the door shut. I turned off the sink. Raven Symoné’s friend just walked in on me in the bathroom. I would treasure this memory forever. I exited the bathroom, and she was waiting outside. “I’m really sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” I said. Little did she know.

I walked back out to see Raven throwing out her trash. I went to her table to pick up the bottles of parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes. It was then that she spoke to me.

“I’m sorry, I should have put them back,” she said.

“It’s fine,” I said, “nobody puts them back.” I went behind the counter to clock in, tingling from such direct exposure to fame. Her friend rejoined her and they left.

“Thank you! Have a nice night!” I said, hoping she would speak to me again.

“Thanks!” she said, leaving. As soon as she walked out the door I unclenched. I had made it to the promised land. My first interaction with a celebrity and I had played it totally cool. We might not have gone shopping when I was 12, but we did share a moment and her friend did walk in on me in the bathroom. What more could I ask for?

-Theodore Dandy

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