As a companion to the “lying customers” thread, how about one on the shitty service us teeming millions have received over the years (aside from educators who refused to recognize our brilliance, that’s for another thread).
I can’t think of anything really bad in the recent past, but your posts will probably jog my memory.
OMG, how very timely. Sunday afternoon Mom, Dad and I loaded up the 3 kids while hubby was at work and went out to lunch at Fazoli’s. We ordered and took our slop to the table. We noticed two individual pizzas and a salad were missing. We alerted the “breadstick guy” (what a high point on the resume) and he went to check it out for us. The warthog they sent to the table actually went through the register tape before she went to get our missing food - God forbid we should try to get one over and these morons and steal this swill. She told us she would bring it out. My 8 yr. old politely asked for the toy prizes that were supposed to be included in his and his sister’s kids’ meals. She said “We’re out!” and stomped away to the kitchen. After about 15 minutes, she was kind enough to bring the pizzas, one of which was the wrong kind, but they had worn us down by now. We kept it.
Breadstick boy makes his second appearance, leaving three of his offerings on the table. Mom picks one up and starts to bite it. I notice the underside is a suspiciously greenish color. COVERED in mold on the bottom. She calls him back over to let him now, in case the others in his basket might be the same way. He told us it had happened twice already that day.
About the same time, I take a bite of my veggie sub, chew and (attempt to) swallow. Suddenly I can’t breathe. Coughing and gagging violently, I run for the door. I have no choice but to barf all over their lovely wood-chipped landscaping. Back at the table, the parents and breadboy are inspecting my plate. A huge piece of fibrous, stringy, and apparently cooked WOOD is the culprit.
We ask to speak to the manager. After half an hour, the 1 and 2 yr. olds can’t take it any longer. We had to leave. Mom went home and fired off a letter to the corporate office, for whatever good it will do. Positively the most disastrous meal I have ever had. If someone told me it happened to them, I don’t think I’d believe it. But it happened. I should sue their butts off, but I’m too lazy.
Thank goodness someone else posted this and I can just ride on the coat tails…
I’ve been bothered by this all day. I was in a dire rush so had to do the fast food thing. I stopped in the handiest burger joint and orderd a “numbered” meal, working on the theory that it would be simplest and fast.
Wrongo. Two (2) people working the same register had more problems over the order than I did in calculus. “Did you want fries with that?” (It’s part of the meal.) “That was a burger, right?” (No, it was chicken.) After ringing it in wrong three times, we got to the fun part.
The electronic cash register displays the change due. The clerk quotes me the wrong amount. Pause and discussion. Finally the change is slowly and painfully doled out. It’s wrong. I count it back for her and help her make the change.
(Pause for explanation. I’ve worked gritty jobs and know how exhausting and sometimes degrading they can be. I’m a great tipper and make a point of courtesy to service people. It’s basic good manners and decent respect. Most people have good intentions and everyone makes mistakes, including me: frequently. Anyone who beats up on someone who can’t answer them back is, in fact, a bully. So…)
Then comes the wait for the food. The order was one of the most basic items on the menu. There are a crashing total of three (3) customers in the place and seven (7) people in the service area. One of the other customers is a poor construction worker, part of a crew from the street outside, who was already waiting when I arrived. The rest left while we were waiting. Without food. So much for breaks.
So after more long discussion, a sandwich is produced. (The construction worker has by now been reduced to coma by starvation.) It’s a hamburger. More discussion. The rejected burger is flipped back under the warming light. Another sandwich is produced.YES! It’s chicken. The construction worker tries to take the rejected hamburger, even though it’s not what he ordered. Loooong discussion on whether it is possible to do that, how to ring it up…
The sandwich was then placed on a tray. I’d ordered it–twice–to go. It was joined by a sack of onion rings. I’d ordered fries: three times. Martyred sighs and the order was repackaged. (Down to 10 minutes to eat,while driving, I gave up the whole salt and ketchup idea.)
When I left, 10 minutes later, the poor construction guy still didn’t have his food and looked like he was ready to go dumpster diving just to get something to eat. Just to add the final little note of irony, the entire service staff was clustered at the counter. They were watching one of the four prominently placed televisions, all playing reruns of The Flintstones.
Sorry to belabor this. (JTI, I think, did it much better in a post on this board about locking himself out of his house…hilarious!) But this is exactly how it transpired. The worst part is that not one of the service people. the manager included (yes, she was there) seemed to have the slightest, tiniest idea of how truly rotten their service was. Bad days, unexpected emergencies, a lot of customers at once, sure; this was just ridiculous.
This long, ranting post is probably ridiculous, too, but hey, I had indigestion all afternoon. (Yeah, yeah, I deserve it for not doing the rice cake thing the way I told myself I should have.) But the worst thing that no one, not one person, showed any awareness at all that the way they were doing things was WRONG. Hey, I work in a service profession. The public can be a pain. Screw ups happen. But explain, apologize, try to make it right, but at least acknowledge that the person has a right to decent service!
Okay, I’ll shut up now. Whew! For someone who lurked in the shadows for 6 months, I’ve sure gotten mouthy, quickly.
Veb
(The Verbose. And cranky.)
I can’t even talk about the worst service I’ve recieved. I twould take about half an hour to discribe.
Here’s a pizzia one. We went out for pizzia, and when the last piece was being eaten, we find IT! It was a used bandaid baked into the pizzia. Magagement just said “Oh, well the rest of the pizzia was ok. We’ll just let the pizzia maker know about it.” No sorry, or anything. Just no big deal, what’s the damn problem attitude.
Can someone tell me what a “pizzia” is? Just so I know not to get one, should the opportunity ever arise.
Pizzia? Where on earth do they spell it that way? It can’t be a typo - it is spelled that way throughout the post…
Yer pal,
Satan
I have a continuing problem buying a five pound bag of coffee beans from Dunkin Doughnuts. Often the service person has a problem figuring out how to multiply the price for a one pound bag times five to get the five pound bag price.
The best came a few weeks ago when I was told it only comes in one pound bags (I have been buying five pounds for years). I played Jack Nickleson and said-- You have a five pound bag that you empty into one pound bags right? “Yes” Then don’t empty it, just give the five pound bag. “I can’t”. Why not? “Because we only sell one pound bags”.
I took the five pound bags, asked for the empty five pound bag, emptied the five one pound bags back into the five pound bag, gave her the five empty bags and left. She was somewhat unhappy.
I know it was petty on my part, but damn, it felt good!
I went and ordered one of those numbered meals once. The ordering system requires you to press one button for the meal, and another for the beverage. The counter-jockey (was her first day) did not ring up my beverage, but I got one anyway. I got my change back, looked at it, looked at the change due on the register, and was puzzled. They matched. Then I looked at the menu above the counter. I got too much change, and mentioned it to the nice woman behind the counter, and she called the bloated cow that serves at a manager there. They asked for my change back. I asked why. Aparrently they needed to void the entire transaction, then ring me up. I offered to just give them $1.37 but they would not hear of it. They actually needed my change back to count it out on the counter, and then give me some of it back! I was very sorry I offered them more money. It was not worth the aggrivation.
Sometimes you spell something wrong and don’t catch it. Famous phrase at work “I had a brain fart.” deal with it.
Diver: I worked at Dunkin’ Donuts for about 3 years, half of that time as a manager. We had a few customers come in & ask for the 5 lb. bags of coffee. The first time I encountered this I was already a manager, but I wasn’t sure of what the price should be. I did the easy thing–I called my boss and asked. I don’t remember what the price was, but he told me to give the customer a discount, for buying in bulk. Okay by me, and the customer walked away happy.
Cristi,
I did the easy thing–I called my boss and asked.
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Oh come on that’s too easy!!<grin>
My problems might have something to do with the unemployment rate around here - 2% or so the last I heard. They probably have trouble hiring the brighter sorts at entry level these days.