It makes me feel like a big man to complain about the help at quickserve restaurants
Hey Subway Restaurant on 47th Street between 3rd and Lexington Avenues, if you don't shape up I might just have to start going to the Subway a block over instead, or maybe the Subway a block over in the other direction.
Strike 1: instead of asking me what kind of cheese I want on my ham & cheese, you immediately lay on the Americano. Which is okay, but my druthers would have been swiss. Ham and swiss, y'know, kind of a classical pairing.
Strike 2: piling lettuce onto my sandwich before I confirmed I wanted lettuce, and also before I gently reminded you that I ordered my sandwich toasted. Lettuce does not take to toasting very well. You were at least nice enough to scrape most of the lettuce -- which has now been in contact with ham and cheese -- back into the lettuce bin before putting my sandwich into the toastermachine.
Strike 3: cash register guy telling me how much my sandwich costs, taking my money, reaching over to answer the ringing phone, and ... freezing. Unable to figure out how to push the shiny buttons and have a phone chat at the same time. Requiring another guy to literally take the money out of your hands and put it into the register so the transaction could be completed.
Strike 4: shorting me fifty cents. I bet when that guy gets off the phone, he'll find two quarters in his hand and not have any idea how they got there. They got there because I gave them to him.
Well, that last one's kind of worth it. Fifty cents to blow some sandwich guy's mind seems like a good deal.
Strike 1: instead of asking me what kind of cheese I want on my ham & cheese, you immediately lay on the Americano. Which is okay, but my druthers would have been swiss. Ham and swiss, y'know, kind of a classical pairing.
Strike 2: piling lettuce onto my sandwich before I confirmed I wanted lettuce, and also before I gently reminded you that I ordered my sandwich toasted. Lettuce does not take to toasting very well. You were at least nice enough to scrape most of the lettuce -- which has now been in contact with ham and cheese -- back into the lettuce bin before putting my sandwich into the toastermachine.
Strike 3: cash register guy telling me how much my sandwich costs, taking my money, reaching over to answer the ringing phone, and ... freezing. Unable to figure out how to push the shiny buttons and have a phone chat at the same time. Requiring another guy to literally take the money out of your hands and put it into the register so the transaction could be completed.
Strike 4: shorting me fifty cents. I bet when that guy gets off the phone, he'll find two quarters in his hand and not have any idea how they got there. They got there because I gave them to him.
Well, that last one's kind of worth it. Fifty cents to blow some sandwich guy's mind seems like a good deal.