I hate stupid people.
Ya know, I don't ask for much. Okay, I do. But when it comes to food, I like eating out. Very rarely do I complain. But it just burns me when I order food to be delivered to my house and they get the order all wrong. Now don't get me wrong, I am the LAST person to talk about bad hearing. But then again, I'M NOT TAKING CALLS!!! So when I order two beef taco meals and one beef chimichanga combo, I expect three meals. Maybe that's just me.
Somehow the lady on the line thought I wanted two tacos and a chimichanga. So that's what she sent. That's great. That feeds the boys, so now what am I supposed to eat? Who orders two tacos to be delivered? Who? That doesn't even make sense! I kid you not, I opened it and there was a whole chimichanga meal, then one little box with two tacos in it. Who does that?! Someone out there must do that, or she wouldn't have gotten confused so easily. Whoever it is that orders two measily tacos to be delivered to their home needs to STOP!
So I wasn't about to starve, so I had the task of calling the restaurant back to correct the order. I hate doing this. I hate complaining, because I know mistakes happen. Not only that but, my brother is a pizza delivery guy. I KNOW the things he does to people's food if they get rude with him. I know better than to be rude. So I called back and politely corrected the order. The lady apologized profusely, then said the third meal would arrive at my home shortly. I was satisfied...
Then she said, "That'll be $8.07"
Uh, what? You got the order wrong and I have to pay for your mistake? Are you kidding me?! Do you want me to tip the delivery guy again, as well, for YOUR mistake?! That should come out of YOUR paycheck. Bitch.
But wait. It gets better.
I kept my mouth shut (because again, don't mess with the people that make your food. Don't ever do it.) and wrote out a check for eight bucks. Sheesh. So the guy comes to the door, I pay him, then settle down to eat my dinner. In the box... are three tacos. That's it. Nothing else. No side salad, no refried beans, no spanish rice. Three tacos. Eight bucks for three tacos. As I look over the ticket in dismay (there's no way I'm calling back to complain a second time) I read the name of the person who called in the order.
"Blacksmith".
My last name is Brocksmith.
Somehow the lady on the line thought I wanted two tacos and a chimichanga. So that's what she sent. That's great. That feeds the boys, so now what am I supposed to eat? Who orders two tacos to be delivered? Who? That doesn't even make sense! I kid you not, I opened it and there was a whole chimichanga meal, then one little box with two tacos in it. Who does that?! Someone out there must do that, or she wouldn't have gotten confused so easily. Whoever it is that orders two measily tacos to be delivered to their home needs to STOP!
So I wasn't about to starve, so I had the task of calling the restaurant back to correct the order. I hate doing this. I hate complaining, because I know mistakes happen. Not only that but, my brother is a pizza delivery guy. I KNOW the things he does to people's food if they get rude with him. I know better than to be rude. So I called back and politely corrected the order. The lady apologized profusely, then said the third meal would arrive at my home shortly. I was satisfied...
Then she said, "That'll be $8.07"
Uh, what? You got the order wrong and I have to pay for your mistake? Are you kidding me?! Do you want me to tip the delivery guy again, as well, for YOUR mistake?! That should come out of YOUR paycheck. Bitch.
But wait. It gets better.
I kept my mouth shut (because again, don't mess with the people that make your food. Don't ever do it.) and wrote out a check for eight bucks. Sheesh. So the guy comes to the door, I pay him, then settle down to eat my dinner. In the box... are three tacos. That's it. Nothing else. No side salad, no refried beans, no spanish rice. Three tacos. Eight bucks for three tacos. As I look over the ticket in dismay (there's no way I'm calling back to complain a second time) I read the name of the person who called in the order.
"Blacksmith".
My last name is Brocksmith.
posted by Ari at 4:06 PM
5 Comments:
oh man! I hate it when they get my tummy tucker all wrong, and as for calling you Blacksmith! You should totally go and redo her horseshoes. Stupid people!
Oh jeeze. I agree with Bobby--i started doing what and now I don't have any problems. However, you are a saint for not complaining again--AND for not refusing to pay!
♥
OMG! I hope the tacos were good! We got a whole free dinner of the best bbq wings in town when I called the restaurant back after an order was delivered to our home a couple of weeks ago. The wings we received were skizzled to a crisp! The manager gave us a free order the next day, and the new wings were plump and juicy. I don't normally complain either... but the this stuff is not cheap!
Mr. Blacksmith must have been happy to get the rice and beans with his meal, LOL.
Shall we get Joe Pesci's thoughts on delivery food? I am sure it is like the drive through and we all remember that famous line.....They ALWAYS FUCK you at the drive thru.
Chris
My Blog
It was expensive, but at least you get a good story out of it. LOL Sorry about the lousy service. It is one of my pet peeves.
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