the further adventures of ipod sestina (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} insafemode) wrote in ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} mock_the_stupid,@ 2004-03-10 09:04:00 |
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Giggles and her boyfriend arrived in the restaurant I work at, just before I was to go home for the evening. They took a seat in my section and informed me that they were waiting for six of their friends to show up. They ordered two waters (of course), and said they wanted bread on the table at all times. I got the feeling there were no other friends showing up, and that they were on some sort of prison diet.
An hour later the friends showed up, all talking on their various cell phones, and shaking their heads and shushing me every time I went to their table to ask if they were ready to order.
Giggles was the Alpha Bitch. When she was ready to order she yelled my name across the restaurant. The table ordered a plate of Cheese Fries, two salads, and a bowl of Clam Chowder.
Someone had rung in a Cheese Fries by mistake earlier, so there was an order sitting in the window when I got into the kitchen. Since I wanted to get these people out of the restaurant as soon as possible, I brought it right out to them. I then went back to the kitchen to wait for the salads and soup.
Just as the salads were coming out, one of my coworkers rushed into the kitchen and said I was needed at my table immediately.
Giggles was no longer chattering with her boyfriend, or their assorted friends. Her lips were sneered so high that I couldn't see her nose, and I'm reasonably sure there was steam coming from her eyes.
"Sir," she snorted "I usually don't like to complain" *cough* YEA, Right. "but I have never been so disgusted in my life. The clam chowder you brought out is cold, has no clams in it, and the portion is ridiculously small. I demand a refund, AND I want to see the manager. There is no excuse for such horrible food."
I did my best to keep my polite customer-service smile as I said "Miss, that's not clam chowder, it's ranch dressing."
An hour later the friends showed up, all talking on their various cell phones, and shaking their heads and shushing me every time I went to their table to ask if they were ready to order.
Giggles was the Alpha Bitch. When she was ready to order she yelled my name across the restaurant. The table ordered a plate of Cheese Fries, two salads, and a bowl of Clam Chowder.
Someone had rung in a Cheese Fries by mistake earlier, so there was an order sitting in the window when I got into the kitchen. Since I wanted to get these people out of the restaurant as soon as possible, I brought it right out to them. I then went back to the kitchen to wait for the salads and soup.
Just as the salads were coming out, one of my coworkers rushed into the kitchen and said I was needed at my table immediately.
Giggles was no longer chattering with her boyfriend, or their assorted friends. Her lips were sneered so high that I couldn't see her nose, and I'm reasonably sure there was steam coming from her eyes.
"Sir," she snorted "I usually don't like to complain" *cough* YEA, Right. "but I have never been so disgusted in my life. The clam chowder you brought out is cold, has no clams in it, and the portion is ridiculously small. I demand a refund, AND I want to see the manager. There is no excuse for such horrible food."
I did my best to keep my polite customer-service smile as I said "Miss, that's not clam chowder, it's ranch dressing."
