I really shouldn't...

One night in college

hurtling:

I’d heard good things about a local pizzeria, a small non-chain affair that reportedly served quality pie at a reasonable price. I walked into the restaurant and looked up at the menu board. The first thing I noticed is that they offered two sizes, labeled “Large” and “Medium.”

“No Small?” I asked.

“We don’t have a Small,” the woman at the counter replied without looking up.

As is my wont, I slipped immediately into pedantic mode.

“Well, if there are only two sizes, isn’t one by definition ‘Large’ and the other ‘Small’?”

The woman looked up and stared at me hard for a moment. “I told you we don’t have a Small,” she said. Then she gestured vaguely upward. “It’s right there on the menu — Large and Medium.”

Of course, I should have given up at this point, but soldiered on stubbornly.

“Well, is there, like, a standard in the pizza business? Is a Small always 10 inches, and a Medium always 14, and you just don’t carry the 10-inch size?” I raised my eyebrows helpfully.

She countered by closing her eyes for a brief time and sighing deeply. When she opened them again, still silent, I waggled my eyebrows and turned my head slightly to suggest she respond.

She did not.

I ordered a medium pepperoni and a large Coke. The pizza was pretty good.

Ouch…I hate hearing that this happens to other people too.  You mean no harm.  You just want to see things labeled in logical order and yet this is why my girlfriend says “some” people consider me an asshole.  But in the end …I also only really care about how good the pizza tastes.