Ladies and gentleman . . . it feels so good to be baaaaaack
(Mosh with me now)
Just kidding. You’ve probably realized that I am in fact NOT Eminem. I’m back from a long hiatus and I am pleased to announce that the customers of our restaurant are still as dumb as ever! I have quite a backlog of stories piled up, so let’s slash through the stupidity like Jason Vorhees in a special needs school!
Our restaurant has a phone number, because any successful business knows that they must make their customers feel like they give a sh*t about their opinions. I generally avoid answering phones; as of this writing I’ve answered a total of 3 phones and regretted 2 of them. Today was the fateful day that the phone rang and I HAD to answer it. The cashier was busy engaging a man who resembled a diabetic bear in small talk and the rest of my coworkers were likewise engaged . . . the sacred duty fell to me.
I picked up and was treated to a woman who sweetly (no sarcasm) informed me that her order had been made wrong. Caught off guard by her pleasantness I asked what was wrong to which she replied that there was no dressing to her salad. This was a situation in which I knew what to do so I immediately offered her a store credit for the meal. The next time she came in the equivalent of the meal would be presented to her free of charge.
“Okay, what can you do about it now?”
I was very confused. Part of it was because I had only listened to half the conversation because I was distracted by an itch on my upper thigh, but part of it was because she seemed to assume I was a magician who could magically zap her the correct order via phone. I stammered out the only logical answer; if she came into our store we would have the correct order waiting for her.
“Well, what about my inconvenience”.
We are the service industry, I get it. But this woman had assumed that a small side of dressing missing from her salad was an “inconvenience”.
I can understand . . . missing a topping from your pizza. Those are specialty items which you can’t throw on and then stick your pizza in the oven. Hell I even understand not getting fries with your burger! But salad dressing? Assuming this woman is Caucasian, I’ve seen enough of their fridges to know it is stocked amply with 3 things: sh*tty beer, lunch meat, and salad dressing. If I tried one salad dressing from a white person’s fridge each day it would take me like . . . 4 days to go through it all (alright that joke kind of sucked).
Blindsided by living proof that Darwinism didn’t exist, I handed the phone over to my now free manager and went about being a productive *giggle* worker.
After the phone call ended, my manager politely informed me something that put yet another enormous dent in the mid-sized sedan that is my faith the human race: the woman wanted us to deliver her the dressing.
Okay, we don’t even offer delivery. As in, if 500 of our most loyal and polite customers ordered the simplest entree item and offered us a huge tip to deliver it to us we STILL couldn’t do it. Yet this woman was throwing a fit because we would not go against our policy and deliver her an item that is so easy to make that it takes around 2 minutes with a blender.
My manager refused her ridiculous request, at which point she said she would never be coming back to our store.
Good. Please go back to shoving Advil up your nose and attempting to snort them out into your sleeping infant’s mouth, or whatever it is you idiots do in your spare time.