I tried very hard not to be a SC, and I think I succeeded. I didn't raise my voice, or swear, or otherwise verbally abuse the person I ended up speaking to, but I was really pissed off, nonetheless.
So, decision is made to get takeout for dinner last night. I really don't like doing takeout on Fridays, since I'm inevitably the one who ends up going to pick it up, and there's always something that ends up pissing me off-- the lack of parking, people cutting me off in the parking lot, or in traffic, or something like what happened last night when I went to pick up dinner at the Factory of Cheesecake.
Here's how it works at the FoC for those who don't know. You call them, place your order, they give you a total and an ETA for when it will be ready. Around that time, you arrive at the FoC, park in specially marked places, and call them on your cell phone, state your name, they come out to your car, you give them the money, they give you your food, you go home with food and eat it. When my family does this, I take cash, and we always factor the tip into the amount I take, and just instruct them to "don't worry about the change." And we tip fairly generously.
Last time I went to FoC, for some reason, I could not get a good connection when I called them from the curbside-pickup space. I'd hear a pick up, some random noise, and then a click. Five times I tried calling, after waiting a minute or two between attempts, and nothing went through. I ended up going inside and picking it up at the counter instead, and let them know about the problems I'd had calling. No fault of theirs, or at least I assumed not, since it could have been a technical problem. But, it was an irritant that served to piss me off anyway.
Well, last night, I went to FoC, right in the timeframe of the ETA quoted when we placed the order, had to orbit the lot once to wait for a space to open up, pull in, call them up. One of their staff picks up, I tell them I'm here for curbside-pickup. They ask for the name, I give it to them, they say, "All right. I'll let them know, they'll be right out!"
So I pull out a Reader's Digest to go through in the meantime.
Twenty minutes later, I finally get fed up and march inside and up to the counter.
J2K -- Me
GC -- Girl at Counter
J2K: I'm here to get my food from curbside-pickup. Name is <name>.
GC: Okay. You're supposed to call from out there--
J2K: I did that. I've been waiting twenty minutes.
GC: Oh. Do you remember the name of the person who took your call?
J2K: They didn't give it.
GC: Oh. All right.
GC has my food right there, she gets it out, prints out the receipt, I pay for it, and take it out to my car. As I'm leaving the lot, Dad calls me, wondering where I am. I explain, briefly, what happened, and say I'm leaving right now.
When I get home, I tell him, "I am never, never, never going to pick up takeout on Fridays again. Something always ends up happening to piss me off, and I can't take it anymore." He says okay.
For the record, when completing the transaction with GC, I cut the tip down by about half. I was just angry enough that someone had dropped the ball and not passed on the message that I was waiting on my dinner.
So, decision is made to get takeout for dinner last night. I really don't like doing takeout on Fridays, since I'm inevitably the one who ends up going to pick it up, and there's always something that ends up pissing me off-- the lack of parking, people cutting me off in the parking lot, or in traffic, or something like what happened last night when I went to pick up dinner at the Factory of Cheesecake.
Here's how it works at the FoC for those who don't know. You call them, place your order, they give you a total and an ETA for when it will be ready. Around that time, you arrive at the FoC, park in specially marked places, and call them on your cell phone, state your name, they come out to your car, you give them the money, they give you your food, you go home with food and eat it. When my family does this, I take cash, and we always factor the tip into the amount I take, and just instruct them to "don't worry about the change." And we tip fairly generously.
Last time I went to FoC, for some reason, I could not get a good connection when I called them from the curbside-pickup space. I'd hear a pick up, some random noise, and then a click. Five times I tried calling, after waiting a minute or two between attempts, and nothing went through. I ended up going inside and picking it up at the counter instead, and let them know about the problems I'd had calling. No fault of theirs, or at least I assumed not, since it could have been a technical problem. But, it was an irritant that served to piss me off anyway.
Well, last night, I went to FoC, right in the timeframe of the ETA quoted when we placed the order, had to orbit the lot once to wait for a space to open up, pull in, call them up. One of their staff picks up, I tell them I'm here for curbside-pickup. They ask for the name, I give it to them, they say, "All right. I'll let them know, they'll be right out!"
So I pull out a Reader's Digest to go through in the meantime.
Twenty minutes later, I finally get fed up and march inside and up to the counter.
J2K -- Me
GC -- Girl at Counter
J2K: I'm here to get my food from curbside-pickup. Name is <name>.
GC: Okay. You're supposed to call from out there--
J2K: I did that. I've been waiting twenty minutes.
GC: Oh. Do you remember the name of the person who took your call?
J2K: They didn't give it.
GC: Oh. All right.
GC has my food right there, she gets it out, prints out the receipt, I pay for it, and take it out to my car. As I'm leaving the lot, Dad calls me, wondering where I am. I explain, briefly, what happened, and say I'm leaving right now.
When I get home, I tell him, "I am never, never, never going to pick up takeout on Fridays again. Something always ends up happening to piss me off, and I can't take it anymore." He says okay.
For the record, when completing the transaction with GC, I cut the tip down by about half. I was just angry enough that someone had dropped the ball and not passed on the message that I was waiting on my dinner.
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