Pizza, and the difficult choice of doing the right thing on an empty stomach
A few months ago, I visited my favorite Ann Arbor pizzeria that I’ve enjoyed for a decade. That day, I walked up to the counter and witnessed the owner berate one of his employees, irrationally.
The owner yelled at his employee for allegedly leaving a styrofoam container on the counter. The employee, a college-aged young man, desperately defended himself. “I didn’t leave it there! I swear!”
The owner retaliated by throwing the styrofoam at his employee. “Stop lying!” he said between swear words.
I stood there at the cash register in disbelief, feeling a great, empty sadness in my stomach that even pizza couldn’t fill.
I vowed to never eat there again.
* * *
Today, I was on a hunt for pizza, and I almost went back to said pizza place. I felt my feet walking me there out of habit, and I felt that emptiness in my stomach return. Was it OK to ignore my conscience?
For a second I stopped walking, and decided I would compare the prices of other pizza spots on my phone, as if price had anything to do with this decision.
All of this was an excuse. Breaking a habit is difficult, especially on an empty stomach.
But I made the decision to go elsewhere. I went to Cottage Inn Pizza instead.
I might be paying a dollar or two more for my delicious pizza, but I’ve also watched the staff smile, chat, and laugh while I write this. I now have a new favorite pizza spot.
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