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Now, I'm not using the lady's eyebrows as an insult, its just so damn hard not to qualify her as anything else, sucky customer aside. Besides, you know how the Egyptian hieroglyphs painted brows? Around the normal part, very thick, and a line to the hair and ears? Yeah... not so good on you, Wonder bread.
On the phone, she would have you price-check every concievable item in a random manner, and then add things she wants to it, only to take half off now, then add more things, and take the other half off later.
One phone call, in epic restraint of me, took a total of 24 1/2 minutes.
Me: Okay.... your salad is at $30, and I'm not 100% sure we can fit everything in one container so--
EYE: Then squish it in. I am not paying for two containers.
Me: --so we'll have to put it in FIVE containers, and allow you to add things as you like them--
EYE: Well, take off the mushrooms, pepperoncini, cheese, lettuce, and chicken.
Me: Ma'am, I can't take the lettuce off and deliver this to you, I am not allowed to, and the computer won't let me remove lettuce from a salad.
EYE: I don't want it, though.
Me: Then I'm afraid you'll have to walk (a total of 95 steps) here and make your own.
EYE: But what about my chicken? There's none on the salad bar!
Me: You removed it...
So on and so forth, she would add and subtract and add a different item, delete the first one, and then add another item, only to ask you what she wanted on the deleted item again.
EYE: A DOLLAR FOR DELIVRY?!
Me: Yes.
EYE: WHEN DID IT GO UP?!?!?!?
Me: It's been like that for four years (and was the same every day this week you called).
This continued until calm, female manager told her off.
FM: And don't you dare call us until you have your order straight! *BAM*
We rejoiced in her prescence, and showered her with Reese's until we discovered, she stopped calling us, and started coming in...
UNO!
She has a child with her, whose head reaches my shoulders. (I'm 5'4''.)
EYE: I need an adult, and a three year old buffet.
Me: Okay.. and how old are you, miss? /lil girl
EYE smacks her hand on the kid's mouth: THREE YEARS OLD.
Me: ...right.
I charged her 10yr. old price. Turned out little miss three is in the 5th grade.
DOS!
EYE: Hey, *snaps fingers* HEY! ...girl! HEY GIRL!
I am getting a drink at the machine, beside the buffet, ignoring the dog caller.
...until she touched my shoulder.
EYE: Put in a ham & cheese Snappoli, a taco pizza, a chocolate dessert (she is standing over one), and a cheese pizza (she just got some on her plate, there is a whole one out there).
Me: Mm.
I do convey it to the buffet master, and he sighs angrily, saying she was told there is only one request per customer.
Dishwasher goes out there, and is flagged down to take the many plates of uneaten salad, and told to put in the above pizzas, and pudding. We don't damn well serve pudding.
Dishwasher conveys, and buffet master groans angrily, forbidding us all from putting those things in. She got, and ate 2/3 of, the Snappoli. That's it.
TRES!
We look outside at her car.. and a man has been sitting inside that thing staring at us for over an hour, while Eyebrow Woman waits on her pizzas, and the ten year old daughter gorges.
Management had to eventually tell her to sit down n shut up (in a nice, cordial fashion). We ended up with doodie and pee pee all over the ladies rooms, spilled Cokes at their table, a total of 34 plates (all used), and a load of boogers on a napkin that Dishwasher stuck her ignorant hand on. <--gross
Topple those with my all-time hated things at the resturaunt:
Touching the pizzas with your hands (instead of the spatulas), and then glaring at me when I throw away whatever you didn't get.
Kicking the buffet.
Allowing your old-enough bratty child to squeal like a sex-crazed pig.
Telling us how ugly the resteraunt is, and how local Pizza Hut has a more romantic atmosphere (see: dingy lights and loud music vs. well lit and able to speak through the jukebox).
How dirty the table is, after you've trashed it.
I doubt we've seen the end, but I am refusing to serve this beast of disgust until further notice.
On the phone, she would have you price-check every concievable item in a random manner, and then add things she wants to it, only to take half off now, then add more things, and take the other half off later.
One phone call, in epic restraint of me, took a total of 24 1/2 minutes.
Me: Okay.... your salad is at $30, and I'm not 100% sure we can fit everything in one container so--
EYE: Then squish it in. I am not paying for two containers.
Me: --so we'll have to put it in FIVE containers, and allow you to add things as you like them--
EYE: Well, take off the mushrooms, pepperoncini, cheese, lettuce, and chicken.
Me: Ma'am, I can't take the lettuce off and deliver this to you, I am not allowed to, and the computer won't let me remove lettuce from a salad.
EYE: I don't want it, though.
Me: Then I'm afraid you'll have to walk (a total of 95 steps) here and make your own.
EYE: But what about my chicken? There's none on the salad bar!
Me: You removed it...
So on and so forth, she would add and subtract and add a different item, delete the first one, and then add another item, only to ask you what she wanted on the deleted item again.
EYE: A DOLLAR FOR DELIVRY?!
Me: Yes.
EYE: WHEN DID IT GO UP?!?!?!?
Me: It's been like that for four years (and was the same every day this week you called).
This continued until calm, female manager told her off.
FM: And don't you dare call us until you have your order straight! *BAM*
We rejoiced in her prescence, and showered her with Reese's until we discovered, she stopped calling us, and started coming in...
UNO!
She has a child with her, whose head reaches my shoulders. (I'm 5'4''.)
EYE: I need an adult, and a three year old buffet.
Me: Okay.. and how old are you, miss? /lil girl
EYE smacks her hand on the kid's mouth: THREE YEARS OLD.
Me: ...right.
I charged her 10yr. old price. Turned out little miss three is in the 5th grade.
DOS!
EYE: Hey, *snaps fingers* HEY! ...girl! HEY GIRL!
I am getting a drink at the machine, beside the buffet, ignoring the dog caller.
...until she touched my shoulder.
EYE: Put in a ham & cheese Snappoli, a taco pizza, a chocolate dessert (she is standing over one), and a cheese pizza (she just got some on her plate, there is a whole one out there).
Me: Mm.
I do convey it to the buffet master, and he sighs angrily, saying she was told there is only one request per customer.
Dishwasher goes out there, and is flagged down to take the many plates of uneaten salad, and told to put in the above pizzas, and pudding. We don't damn well serve pudding.
Dishwasher conveys, and buffet master groans angrily, forbidding us all from putting those things in. She got, and ate 2/3 of, the Snappoli. That's it.
TRES!
We look outside at her car.. and a man has been sitting inside that thing staring at us for over an hour, while Eyebrow Woman waits on her pizzas, and the ten year old daughter gorges.
Management had to eventually tell her to sit down n shut up (in a nice, cordial fashion). We ended up with doodie and pee pee all over the ladies rooms, spilled Cokes at their table, a total of 34 plates (all used), and a load of boogers on a napkin that Dishwasher stuck her ignorant hand on. <--gross
Topple those with my all-time hated things at the resturaunt:
Touching the pizzas with your hands (instead of the spatulas), and then glaring at me when I throw away whatever you didn't get.
Kicking the buffet.
Allowing your old-enough bratty child to squeal like a sex-crazed pig.
Telling us how ugly the resteraunt is, and how local Pizza Hut has a more romantic atmosphere (see: dingy lights and loud music vs. well lit and able to speak through the jukebox).
How dirty the table is, after you've trashed it.
I doubt we've seen the end, but I am refusing to serve this beast of disgust until further notice.
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