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Tell me a story!
Specifically, your tales of hilariously (or maybe not so funny) bad service.
This first one I told![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cerusee in a comment on my previous post about bad service. I think puppleball was there, too (Chris' bachelorette night) - if you remember any details, please dish!
This time, the service was so bad that the manager, while we were actively trying to pay, comped our entire meal and drinks and gave us coupons for free appetizers. And there were eight of us at the table, who had 1-2 alcoholic drinks each, a couple of appetizers, and an entree each, so you know it was a large bill.
Most of the details of that experience have faded out of my memory, but the service was incredibly slow, the server had no idea what she was doing and no clue that maybe it was way past time to get a manager and ask for help in serving us, and at the climax, brought out the wrong entree and proceeded to get into a heated argument with the diner over it, which, I think was the final straw that made the manager comp us. And the restaurant wasn't even crowded, so there wasn't that excuse.
The argument came about when one of us who'd ordered the beer cheese soup was delivered a giant bowl of queso - the server (rather than a kitchen worker) had ladled it out of the wrong container in the kitchen. And instead of saying "I'm sorry, I'll check in to that right away," she argued that no, it was definitely beer cheese soup. We had to call the manager over and get him to taste it. He agreed that it was definitely queso. XD
Trying to pay was a clusterfuck in and of itself because the server was actively avoiding our table by then and didn't want to bring the bill or to pick up the credit card. I think we had to send someone to go get the bill from the manager. When we went up at the register to pay, as the server had evaporated and wasn't picking our money up, the manager comped it rather than deal with the situation any longer.
* * *
The second bad service experience has also mostly faded from my memory, as it was about 15 years ago. A group of us ate at the Waffle House From Hell after an SCA meeting because someone else had said, "You HAVE to go there! The service is SO BAD!" But I remember a couple of highlights.
We entered the restaurant, and it was mostly empty except for a couple of old guys who had the look of regulars sitting at the front drinking coffee and chatting with a waitress. I don't remember if we were seated or told to go seat ourselves.
Eventually, a busboy came out and gave us menus, and asked for our drink orders. I ordered Coke. He disappeared, then eventually came back and said they were out of Coke. I asked for a Dr Pepper. Again he disappeared, then eventually returned to say they were out of Dr. Pepper. I asked him what they *did* have. He disappeared a *third* time, then returned and said "Sprite." I told him I'd have a Sprite.
We never did get an actual server. I think the high point of the evening was when the busboy returned with a napkin and a pen and asked us to write our orders down. The food was at least edible, and the rest of the night is hazy to me, but when we left we tipped quite well because the floor show had lived entirely down to our expectations. XD
* * *
So! Tell me *your* stories!
This first one I told
cerusee in a comment on my previous post about bad service. I think puppleball was there, too (Chris' bachelorette night) - if you remember any details, please dish!This time, the service was so bad that the manager, while we were actively trying to pay, comped our entire meal and drinks and gave us coupons for free appetizers. And there were eight of us at the table, who had 1-2 alcoholic drinks each, a couple of appetizers, and an entree each, so you know it was a large bill.
Most of the details of that experience have faded out of my memory, but the service was incredibly slow, the server had no idea what she was doing and no clue that maybe it was way past time to get a manager and ask for help in serving us, and at the climax, brought out the wrong entree and proceeded to get into a heated argument with the diner over it, which, I think was the final straw that made the manager comp us. And the restaurant wasn't even crowded, so there wasn't that excuse.
The argument came about when one of us who'd ordered the beer cheese soup was delivered a giant bowl of queso - the server (rather than a kitchen worker) had ladled it out of the wrong container in the kitchen. And instead of saying "I'm sorry, I'll check in to that right away," she argued that no, it was definitely beer cheese soup. We had to call the manager over and get him to taste it. He agreed that it was definitely queso. XD
Trying to pay was a clusterfuck in and of itself because the server was actively avoiding our table by then and didn't want to bring the bill or to pick up the credit card. I think we had to send someone to go get the bill from the manager. When we went up at the register to pay, as the server had evaporated and wasn't picking our money up, the manager comped it rather than deal with the situation any longer.
* * *
The second bad service experience has also mostly faded from my memory, as it was about 15 years ago. A group of us ate at the Waffle House From Hell after an SCA meeting because someone else had said, "You HAVE to go there! The service is SO BAD!" But I remember a couple of highlights.
We entered the restaurant, and it was mostly empty except for a couple of old guys who had the look of regulars sitting at the front drinking coffee and chatting with a waitress. I don't remember if we were seated or told to go seat ourselves.
Eventually, a busboy came out and gave us menus, and asked for our drink orders. I ordered Coke. He disappeared, then eventually came back and said they were out of Coke. I asked for a Dr Pepper. Again he disappeared, then eventually returned to say they were out of Dr. Pepper. I asked him what they *did* have. He disappeared a *third* time, then returned and said "Sprite." I told him I'd have a Sprite.
We never did get an actual server. I think the high point of the evening was when the busboy returned with a napkin and a pen and asked us to write our orders down. The food was at least edible, and the rest of the night is hazy to me, but when we left we tipped quite well because the floor show had lived entirely down to our expectations. XD
* * *
So! Tell me *your* stories!
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So I made an appointment, and for eighty bux, the base price then, figured, what they hey, I could get my ends trimmed--hadn't done that for ten years.
So I get there at five--party begins at seven, downtown L.A. so I have close to an hour's traffic between me and it--and I am told I have to take off my clothes and wear one of their maroon bathrobes. I'm pissed. I am thinking, this is different from the hospital how? (except the quality of the gown). Then I finally sit down, and a woman comes up. She has purple hair an inch long, except for two curls like antennae sticking out at ear level.
I say, "I would like something elegant--and if a trim comes in your eighty bucks, great. If not, fine."
She gets affronted and says, "We do not do hair styles" (Like I'd asked to use her chair as a spittoon.) "We create!"
"Create what?" I asked, wary.
She yanked out her scissors, and began making motions like she was going to whack off my thigh length hair.
I clasped my hands to my head. "No, you're not going to cut it off!"
"But I will create a Look. Like me!" She pointed to her purple hair and her antennae.
"It's cool, but it's not my style. Can't I have my style, just something romantic? Elegant?" I plead.
She stomps away to complain to the boss, who comes over and tries to bully me into letting them do what they like to my head. I look around, and every single one of them looks like a Henson puppet.
So I tip her anyway, and slink out guiltily . . . and two hours later I'm inching across L.A. in my disco dress with wet hair hanging down my back.
Second one, the bar where I worked. It was the only time I was ever fired, for refusing to sleep with the boss (in his fifties--I was 22) when he'd just put his nineteen year old wife in the hospital after beating her up. He made my co worker fire me.
Anyway, after I was out, he changed the rules, so that the workers could no longer cut someone off. He wanted those beer dimes. So one time, not long after I was out of there, one of the regulars got so drunk he fell off his bar stool dead. The place closed soon after. (I call that the worst service EVER.)
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... he'd given me a ten.
Me: Sorry, mate, you need to give me another five.
Idiot!boy: No, you gave me twenty, the shoes were ten...
Me: Um, no. They're five. See, it says right here on the label. They're reduced.
Idiot!boy: Well, yes, they're five each.
Me: O.O
Customer behind me in queue: *bursts out laughing*
Me: I think you'll find it's usual to buy shoes in pairs. Hence the price is per pair.
Idiot!boy: *ponders this* Oh. Oh, I see. I suppose you're right.
Me: So, could I have my five pounds, please?
Idiot!boy: Oh no, I've already rung up the till. You'll have to go to customer services and get a refund.
*headdesk*
Customer Services weren't exactly contrite but they did find their colleague's mistake somewhat amusing.
Just as well it *was* quite funny - because not one member of staff (out of the four I ended up dealing with) could spare me an apology.
What's the world coming to, eh?
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I get my order and check the bag, since they have a tendency to forget things. I'm missing the wee little basket of shrimp. Pointing this out, I ask the man behind the counter to check my coupon. He does so and reads, at the bottom of the list, "1 Popcorn Shrimp".
What does he do?
... he takes a pair of tongs, grabs one, single popcorn shrimp and drops it in my bag on top of everything else.
I stand there staring at him, honestly expecting him to break out into a grin or a chuckle or something to prove that he's actually aware of the absurdity of the situation and that it's all just a little joke to break up the monotony of working behind the counter.
He feckin' doesn't! The man honestly believes that's what the coupon meant!
Fortunately the manager notices something's gone horribly wrong and corrects the problem, explaining that he's new and hasn't seen one of those coupons before.
Well, of course that was the problem . . .
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I was with my friend who is a vegetarian. We were both scouring the menu at a Mexican food restaurant to find something that she would like.
Her: "Can I have the nachos, except without the chili?"
Waitress: "Uhhhhh, they don't come without the chili."
Her: "You can't just leave it off? Can I just have cheese?"
Waitress: "We don't have any extra cheese."
Her: dumbfounded
Me: "Wait, what? What about quesadillas?"
Waitress: "That's the cheese for the quesadillas."
Both of us: ...
Finally we got her to write down 'nachos with cheese, no chili (vegetarian)' because perhaps the cook was smarter.
Guess what the waitress put in front of my friend (with a flourish!)...a plate of plain, dry tortilla chips.
They are vegetarian.
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Took my daughter to McDonald's when she was about 6 (probably about the last time we went anyway). She had me order her a cheeseburger, but then changed her mind, asking for no cheese. So I said, "Oh, sorry, she doesn't want cheese on the burger." The young man behind the register fumbled around for awhile, appeared completely stymied, and then said, "so she wants a cheeseburger with no cheese?" I said, "well, yes, I guess you could put it that way," thinking he was making a joke. He went away from the register and talked to the guy making the fries. Then he came back and said, "I have to get my manager because I don't think we can do that." I said, "really, you can't void it?" He got really angry then and said, "look, we don't sell them like that." He called the manager over, telling him very indignantly, "this lady ordered a cheeseburger without cheese. I tried to tell her we don't make those, and now she said she doesn't want a cheeseburger anyway."
The manager looked at me and said, "so you want a hamburger?" When I said yes, the young man yelled, "but you said you wanted a cheeseburger with no cheese!" The manager cuffed him on the back of the head and said "that's a hamburger."
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The maitre d' was eating lunch with a friend not too far from our booth.
We never saw the waitress again.
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The full service meal was a bad, bad idea. There was only one server in sight, and although we were in fact the only people in the restaurant asking for sit-down service, she didn't seem to be able to handle a table of five people--it took about fifteen minutes to bring us menus; twenty minutes to bring drinks once they were ordered; the food took even longer time arrive; I don't know how long, because we gave up timing it. My younger sister's meal never arrived (she asked about it once, but not a second time). My older sister's meal had an ingredient, not listed on the menu, that she was allergic to, so she had to send it back and request a different entree without that ingredient, and the replacement entree didn't arrive until the rest of us were done eating our food.
The bill was actually fine (the missing entree wasn't on the bill, and we were only charged for the replacement entree, not the one my sister couldn't eat), but there was something confusing on it that my father needed clarified before he paid the check--unfortunately, the server's English was sufficiently scanty that she couldn't explain it, and in fact could barely understand the question. The kicker? When the server brought the manager over to explain the bill, it turned out he'd been sitting about five feet away from us in the uncrowded restaurant for our entire meal, and never so much as batted an eyelash at the exceptionally slow and faulty service unfolding in front of him.
We agreed later that the problem was likely that they didn't expect to have many customers wanting full service at lunchtime (the buffet is very popular, as it is cheap and delicious), and didn't have the server/kitchen staff they needed to handle any non-buffet customers at lunchtime. Which would be fine, except, why the hell even offer it, if they weren't going to prepare for it?
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The taxi driver took us in the wrong direction for a good twenty minutes until he asked for directions to the motel from my mom, who had never been in this city before and had no clue. He apparently did not believe this. This went on for over an hour of driving around in circles on the interstate with both of them arguing over whether or not Mom knew the way to her destination and whether or not she should know this, during which time she demanded to be taken back to the airport to get another taxi and the driver refused.
Eventually Mom saw a motel off the interstate (the correct motel? a random motel?) and made the driver stop there; then there was another round of arguing over whether she would pay the meter time spent driving around in circles. It must've been almost 3AM by this point. I think she did end up paying just to end the argument. When the driver saw she'd given him exact cash change for the fare, he was like, There's no tip here, to which my mom responded that there was no way he deserved or was getting a tip. Driver: But I put your bags in the trunk for you! Mom: NO, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, NO NO NO. The driver was furious, and we got our bags out of trunks ourselves. Then as we were carrying our luggage across the motel parking lot he flanked us at a crawl so he could roll down the taxi window and shout insults at us from about six feet away.
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We have tons of stories, but to illustrate: one weekend we ate in the diner near my house (where we were pretty much regulars at the time) and got a new waitress, one with attitude.
Chris asked, "What are the vegetables tonight?" and she replied, "They're grilled." Ok... lets try that again.
"No, I'm sorry, I mean what type of vegetable do you have tonight?"
Waitress slams our menus down on the table and says, in a threatening voice, "I just told you, they're grilled!"
I could see Chris starting to boil over, so I tried - "But what variety of vegetable are you grilling?"
"What don't you understand?" she yelled. "They are GRILLLLLED!"
Fortunately, her performance had attracted attention by this time, and the hostess/owner hustled her away. And somehow, we never saw her again, that day or ever after....
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The following night we ate in the Deli by Chris' house. Our waitress was friendly, and anxious to please, but ---- inept. Chris had a hot chocolate, which she usually asked for a creamer with, and the waitress brought her 3 or 4. She also filled the cup to the rim. We just smiled. No biggie.
When Chris asked for a second hot chocolate, the waitress came to the table with the tea water carafe and filled the sticky used cup to the point where only surface tension kept the water in the cup. They she came back with a packet of powdered hot chocolate, which she ripped open and sprinkled into a clumpy pyramid on top. All we could do was watch it suck the water up and turn solid, and then sink into the cup. But it was so much better than the night before we only laughed.