In regards to the importance of service
July 4 was fairly irritating for me. And after the fireworks thing, I decided I wanted some food and relaxation. I headed to Rally's on the way home from Fairborn where we had sat for explosion-times, and got some boneless wings, since their garlic parmesan sauce is delicious. Unfortunately, when I got home the place was chock full of people who were there hanging out. I don't generally mind this, but I didn't even have a place to sit down, much less relax. Fuck it, I said, and asked Apple to put my food in the fridge as I collapsed in bed.
Fast forward to the next day, at about noon. I pull my Rally's bag out of the fridge, and find that the boneless I'd ordered were covered in some sort of sauce which was spicy-smelling and red, neither quality being an identifying trait of garlic parmesan sauce. I checked the bag; no receipt, so I couldn't tell whether they'd taken the order wrong, or whether they fulfilled the order wrong. Mostly my former-restaurant-worker curiosity, there.
If I had ranch dressing, I'd have shrugged it off and eaten 'em anyway, but I can't just scarf spicy-sauced things straight--especially having been refrigerated; somehow sauces get spicier when stored. But I didn't, so I took the bag and got in my car and drove out to the restaurant, only about a mile away.
I got to the speaker-order-y thing, and explained the predicament. "Did you call in about it?" came the response.
"No, I couldn't call in, because they didn't give me a receipt and so I didn't have the number."
"We can't replace the order without the receipt and without your name on the list."
"Well, I have my credit card receipt, and it has the timestamp on it."
A pause. "Pull around, please."
I do. Someone who I later learned was the assistant manager greeted me--or, perhaps, ambushed me--at the window. "You'll have to call tomorrow, because our general manager is off today."
"I don't have the number. I have the food with me right here, and I have the credit card receipt..."
"The number should be on the credit card receipt."
"...I don't think you want me to call this number, I don't even recognize this area code."
"Let me see that." I hand over the receipt. She leaves with it, and comes back, having written a phone number and the general manager's name on the back, and hands it to me. "You can call this number and ask for her, because I'm not comfortable doing this without her."
Yeah, sure, whatever. I go and park in their tiny parking lot, and call the number.
I expected the number to be the manager's business cell phone, or home phone, or something. Turns out I was given the store number. For the store I was parked at. Where the general manager wasn't.
Fuck that shit. If they weren't willing to work with me, considering I had the uneaten food with me as evidence as well as the proof of purchase in the form of the credit card receipt, then they weren't worth my time. I went and got some Chinese.
Next day I called back once I had a minute and sufficient give-a-shit to deal with them. Manager wasn't there, presumably had left for the day. Fuck 'em.
That evening, the 6th, Tuesday, I decided I wanted some boneless wings on the way home. But fuck getting 'em at Rally's. So I ordered at BW-3. Got a bunch of different sauces, got some chips (potato slices, deep fried, unseasoned), and a little ranch on the side.
I get there, they have the order ready. "Would you like me to check that order for you before you go?"
"Yeah, if you would. I've had some bad luck lately with getting my stuff made right."
Cashier opens the first box. Four sides of ranch. "Wow, I only wanted one, but hey, I'll take the extra." Second box, basket of potato wedges (seasoned, but otherwise made as I ordered the chips). "Well, I guess that's okay. Wedges are good, and with the extra ranch that's perfectly fine."
Third box comes open. Regular wings, with one of the sauces I asked for. "Okay, at this point we have to stop, because these were supposed to be boneless." She opens the rest of the boxes just to be sure, and they're all also regular boneful wings. They screwed up my entire order.
And yet it was okay, because she had offered to check it right then and there, and didn't accuse me implicitly of trying to swindle them by lying about what I ordered.
And they fixed it, and gave me a soda while I waited. And put me on for a food credit for next time. And made me an order of chips as well, and let me keep the mismade wedges. So I got all the food I ordered and then some, and $15 credit, and a fairly nice chat with the manager of the place.
Fuck Rally's.
Fast forward to the next day, at about noon. I pull my Rally's bag out of the fridge, and find that the boneless I'd ordered were covered in some sort of sauce which was spicy-smelling and red, neither quality being an identifying trait of garlic parmesan sauce. I checked the bag; no receipt, so I couldn't tell whether they'd taken the order wrong, or whether they fulfilled the order wrong. Mostly my former-restaurant-worker curiosity, there.
If I had ranch dressing, I'd have shrugged it off and eaten 'em anyway, but I can't just scarf spicy-sauced things straight--especially having been refrigerated; somehow sauces get spicier when stored. But I didn't, so I took the bag and got in my car and drove out to the restaurant, only about a mile away.
I got to the speaker-order-y thing, and explained the predicament. "Did you call in about it?" came the response.
"No, I couldn't call in, because they didn't give me a receipt and so I didn't have the number."
"We can't replace the order without the receipt and without your name on the list."
"Well, I have my credit card receipt, and it has the timestamp on it."
A pause. "Pull around, please."
I do. Someone who I later learned was the assistant manager greeted me--or, perhaps, ambushed me--at the window. "You'll have to call tomorrow, because our general manager is off today."
"I don't have the number. I have the food with me right here, and I have the credit card receipt..."
"The number should be on the credit card receipt."
"...I don't think you want me to call this number, I don't even recognize this area code."
"Let me see that." I hand over the receipt. She leaves with it, and comes back, having written a phone number and the general manager's name on the back, and hands it to me. "You can call this number and ask for her, because I'm not comfortable doing this without her."
Yeah, sure, whatever. I go and park in their tiny parking lot, and call the number.
I expected the number to be the manager's business cell phone, or home phone, or something. Turns out I was given the store number. For the store I was parked at. Where the general manager wasn't.
Fuck that shit. If they weren't willing to work with me, considering I had the uneaten food with me as evidence as well as the proof of purchase in the form of the credit card receipt, then they weren't worth my time. I went and got some Chinese.
Next day I called back once I had a minute and sufficient give-a-shit to deal with them. Manager wasn't there, presumably had left for the day. Fuck 'em.
That evening, the 6th, Tuesday, I decided I wanted some boneless wings on the way home. But fuck getting 'em at Rally's. So I ordered at BW-3. Got a bunch of different sauces, got some chips (potato slices, deep fried, unseasoned), and a little ranch on the side.
I get there, they have the order ready. "Would you like me to check that order for you before you go?"
"Yeah, if you would. I've had some bad luck lately with getting my stuff made right."
Cashier opens the first box. Four sides of ranch. "Wow, I only wanted one, but hey, I'll take the extra." Second box, basket of potato wedges (seasoned, but otherwise made as I ordered the chips). "Well, I guess that's okay. Wedges are good, and with the extra ranch that's perfectly fine."
Third box comes open. Regular wings, with one of the sauces I asked for. "Okay, at this point we have to stop, because these were supposed to be boneless." She opens the rest of the boxes just to be sure, and they're all also regular boneful wings. They screwed up my entire order.
And yet it was okay, because she had offered to check it right then and there, and didn't accuse me implicitly of trying to swindle them by lying about what I ordered.
And they fixed it, and gave me a soda while I waited. And put me on for a food credit for next time. And made me an order of chips as well, and let me keep the mismade wedges. So I got all the food I ordered and then some, and $15 credit, and a fairly nice chat with the manager of the place.
Fuck Rally's.