Pizza Love.

The past couple of weeks, I have had the opportunity to work with one of my amazing friends at a certain pizza place in Logan (this gives nothing away since Logan has about as many pizza places as it does people). I go for a couple hours, Monday-Friday, and we put coupons on all the pizza boxes. It is a job I do not mind doing at all, but it sometimes gets old fast. Doing the same thing over and over again. Coupon after coupon. Box after box. So to pass time and keep myself entertained, I do what I usually do in such a situation. I observe the pizza workers and listen to their conversations.

Perhaps that is a bit creepy, so fine, I will admit to being a creeper. I like people. They intrigue me. It amazes me how completely different every individual person is.

The workers at the pizza place are pretty fun and entertaining people. I like them. So as the classic rock music blasts throughout the kitchen, I observe these people as they make greasy pizzas for hungry people. By the way, working at a pizza place would be a rough job. Making pizzas is not easy. Flattening all that dough, slicing up bread sticks, sprinkling on cheese, placing on the right amount of pepperoni.

The other day, I encountered something very exciting in my people observations. A girl came through the kitchen, slightly dishevelled, a few minutes late for work. She looked about my same age. I could see the end of a tattoo on her neck, which I guessed continued on down her back. As she came through with a NOS energy drink in hand and bag of pretzels, I noticed something interesting.

There is a boy that works almost every day. He is probably just a couple years older than me. He is a very friendly guy, but he behaved slightly different with tattoo girl. He had an air about him as if he was trying to be cool for the girl. After she hung her coat up and set her food down, she came over next to the boy, and began putting dough through the dough machine. She smiled at him. It was somewhat of a flirty smile. They began chatting away and flirting with one another. She would lean over toward him too. I am sure she would have touched his cheese covered hands if it were not policy for her to wash her hands after.

The boy began talking about his skiing adventures. Apparently he spends a lot of time on the slopes. Then he casually said to tattoo girl,

"You know, you should come with me this Saturday."

"I have to work," she said with a crinkle of her nose. "Maybe I could switch someone. I will try."

She smiled again at him.

Then they began challenging each other to guess songs on the radio.

"Smoking in the Boy's Room. Motley Crue. My point," exclaimed tattoo girl.

"Separate Ways. Journey. My point," skiing boy said.

"Talk Dirty to Me. Poison. My point," squealed tattoo girl.

The manager seemed to notice the pair's friendly ways. He called the boy up to the front to run the register. The boy let out a disappointed sigh and smiled in the girl's direction. She laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. She then continued to make pizzas as she sang along to all the classic songs I am use to playing on all the best versions of Guitar Hero.

I don't know a lot about making pizzas. But I am smart enough to figure that there is more being created in that kitchen than just pizzas. There is a love affair taking place.