I live in a very diverse neighborhood. It has a healthy mix of Latino, black and white with a little bit of everything else thrown in for good measure. And I love that it’s like that, because it’s the exact opposite of the crushing whiteness of suburbia. (And just for context, I’m white.)
Recently a Chinese-run restaurant opened up in the neighborhood. It’s the standard cheap bodega you see around here that serves cheap Chinese food, along with gyros, chicken, burgers and subs. They have those cheesy posters advertising gyros and apple turnovers on the wall. All the urban Dopers probably know what I’m talking about.
I’ve ordered from them before, and while there is a substantial language barrier, it didn’t prevent me from ordering what I want and getting it. But tonight I decided I wanted a gyro and fries (which I’ve ordered from there before) and when I called, the man I spoke to just didn’t understand me. I said I wanted a gyro and fries, he said “OK” and hung up.
Since I didn’t get a price, order number or anything else, I thought I was disconnected and called back. I said I thought the call was dropped and repeated my order.
But it became clear that he had hung up on purpose and had already placed my order, except that the part where I ordered a gyro just didn’t make any sense to him. I said the order again, and he “Gyro? Gyro?” and asked what number a gyro was on the menu. Well, it doesn’t have a number; only the Chinese stuff on the menu does. I said it was listed with all the other subs and sandwiches, and his response was “What sandwich?”
I said “nevermind” and hung up. I decided that if I ordered in person, that would help. So I go there, say I need a gyro and an order of fries, and he grabs an order of fries that’s already been prepared — obviously he went ahead with my order (or what he thought was my order) even though I said nevermind. So then I say, “I ordered a gyro, too” and he looks at me confused and again says, “Gyro? Gyro?”
I started to repeat myself again but realized it was an exercise in futility. I shook my head and left without saying another word. I was just too fed up.
I hate the fact that I got so angry about this, but I’m sorry: If you are going to run a restaurant in this country, the people taking the orders need to be able to speak enough English to understand the menu. Is that too much to ask?
And, yeah, I know “gyro” isn’t exactly an English word, but it’s still on the menu. If you’re going to sell something, know what the hell it is.
So now I’m hungry with a gyro craving that won’t go away until tomorrow, and that place is the only restaurant within walking distance. And I certainly don’t feel like ordering anything else from a place that can’t grasp such a basic tenet of customer service: Have a staff that’s able to understand your customers.
