Dec 29 2007
A Small Rant, A Small Rave
One thing I’ve always prided myself on, being in the service industry my entire working life, is….Service! Amazing how that works, isn’t it? Apparently not all of the people we pay to help us feel the same way.
Yesterday, we went up to Mt. Trashmore so Shortman could do some snowboarding. The lodge has three separate facilities for those of us who hate the suck-ass snow and cold. The first is a bring-your-own everything. Food, drink, entertainment. The second has a lot of picnic tables, is kept (slightly) warmer, and the kind of snackbar type of food that costs way too much. Think $3 for a slice of pizza; $3.66 for some mozzarella sticks, $2.50 for a bottle of water. The third is an honest-to-goodness (humph) restaurant with a bar and menus.
We decided to have a real meal for lunch yesterday, so we headed over to place #3 after Shortman had been out on the slopes for a while. We walked in, looked around for a hostess, saw nothing that indicated we shouldn’t seat ourselves (of course, the conglomeration of Ski Patrol parkas that were clustered around the entryway blocking the entrance made for some manuvering skill similar to what some of the skiers were experiencing out on the slopes).
We sat at a table over in the corner so we could store Shortman’s snowboard bag and the other assorted shit we had with us out of the way. And we waited.
I tried to catch a couple of servers’ eyes. Nothing.
Finally, someone came out of the kitchen, and I beckoned, “Excuse me, could we have menus?” She looked at us, and said, “Did a hostess seat you here?” When we told her that there was no hostess when we walked in, nor any sign indicating we should expect one, she replied, “Well, you’re in my area, but I was just about to go on break.” (Straw #1)
We picked up our things - all the while looking at her. She started stammering, “I mean, I was going to go on break, but I’d much rather serve you than take my break.” If I heard the word break one more time, I was going to break something - probably her head. (Straw #2)
We insisted that we didn’t want to inconvenience her; heaven forbid she should have to, y’know, do her fucking job, so we got up and moved to another table.
She followed us. (Straw #3)
I do have to give her credit. She was obviously concerned that we were going to cause a scene. (Moi? Geez. Like that would ever happen. snirk.) She took our drink orders, and someone else brought us menus. Then, because “The Manager just came in, and is switching everyone’s tables”, another server came to take our order.
I ordered the pulled pork sandwich with fries, Shortman had the Chicken Ceasar Wrap, and Mr. Hot ordered the Cheeseburger with mozzarella cheese and onion rings. The waiter wanted us to know that the onion rings would be an extra $0.50. (Actually, the menu said an extra $1, but okay, whatever.)
When we got our food, Mr. Hot’s had french fries - and feta cheese on the burger. He wouldn’t let me say anything, (because, y’know, my reputation obviously followed me to a place I’ve only been once before in my entire life!), claimed it was okay, he was too hungry to wait for them to change it to the correct order. The server must have seen my face, but for the life of himself, couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He kept apologizing, “I’m sorry if there’s something wrong.” Mr. Hot kept telling him there was nothing wrong. I just kept the grin plastered on my face. (Straw #4)
Shortman couldn’t figure out why I thought the waiter was at fault. I tried to explain that I always double-checked stuff - and since there was only three orders, he could have certainly done a quick once-over to see if it was all right. Especially since he told us he was new. AND since we discussed the extra surcharge on the onion rings.
These are really little things, I know, but when you pride yourself on being helpful and understanding of your clients (no matter how freakin’ stupid they are!), all of the little things add up to one BIG disappointment in how we treat others today.
There’s my little rant for now.
On the other hand! My new printer/scanner/copier/vibrator/masseuse would not power on yesterday. Nothing I did or screamed would help. I plugged it into a different outlet. I changed the USB port. I crossed myself, ate 3 sprigs of garlic and faced the west while throwing salt over my shoulder. It was deader than the Ghost of Christmas Past. (And the garlic? Chased away Mr. Hot. Damn.)
I spent 40 minutes trying to resurrect the damn thing. I hadn’t even used it! Mr. Hot had printed a single sheet of paper. Fucking power outage. Fried the thing. I knew I was going to have to deal with an Amazon return and packing and waiting and damnity damn damn damn.
I decided to search for “Canon 530 will not power up”. Lo and Behold, CNet.com came through for me! (I’m going to lick CNet.com.) Specifically, “When there’s a power surge, unplug your Canon printer for a minimum of 20 minutes to reset all memory.” I unplugged it. About 4 hours later, I was ready to take a deep breath and plug it back in. ……. Like I said, I’m going to lick CNet.com. And therefore, because of the success of that little exercise, I am giving you some scanned pics, as promised!
A 10-year-old Hotfessional - Complete with Birthday Cake:
An 11th Grade Hotfessional - Check out the specs, y’all. 1980 in all its glory:
And this one is for Bossy - so she’ll understand my obsession joy whenever she posts a picture of Stella. Me and my puppy, Bibi. She was about 18 months here. She lived to the ripe old age of 11 - nearly unheard of for a giant breed.
—- And no comments about the shorts please. This was circa 1978. —-
HOT LOVE
[…] Original post by My Life as a Hotfessional […]
I’m loving the shorts and ringer tee….I think I had that tee also, but alas, with no boobs to fill it quite yet.
I had those glasses. I think I still have those glasses.
I’ve gotten to the point in my cranky old age that I won’t go down without a fight when it comes to bad service. In return, I’ve gotten some comped meals and hotel rooms. So it’s true that the squeaky wheel gets greased.
Love the shorts, by the way.
PLEASE let me say something about the shorts….was that a yes, ok then. You look like a very HOT hotfessional girl in those teeny tiny shorts. There, that didn’t hurt at all did it?
Fantastic post and I hate to say it but I laughed all the way through it. Not at your dismay at the crap service (its my pet hate too) but the hilarious way you described the situation. Ok I have a warped sense of humour but I’m lovable….lol.
Oh, do I love old pictures! And hate bad service! Grr!
Did you catch the game? The Pie found her My First MSU Words book and demanded to learn the fight song. Lot of good that did.
I’m loving those specs. Could they possibly get just a teeny bit larger? I think there may be a bit more chin to cover there. Fortunately the shorts really couldn’t get much smaller. And I can see why Mr. Hot got all…well….hot!
Heidi
PS: Hate bad service, too, but hate even more to make a scene. In your scenario, I’m Mr. Hot and Mike would be you
This post was awesome! After a craptastic 12 hours of driving, it was just what I needed (+ 1/2 bottle of a cab). I would say that I wanna lick your blog but that would be too weird to “say”, right?
Right?
I seriously cannot believe you were so polite at the restaurant. I clearly need to learn manners from the Hotfessional Academy Etiquette (Ree Hot, Headmistress).
Oh. Mah. Gawd. Did you have to wax before you painted those babies on?
I thought of you the other morning when Boo wandered over to my sleeping brother (more like passed out) and licked him awake. You would be proud.
Bad service sucks. Especially when it is not McDonalds.
Yay for the pictures! What a lovely horse.
Oh, she is beautiful!
I’m usually the one who stays quiet with dodgy orders, and Jase/Mum are the ones who fight and get it fixed.
If the food order is bad, I say so. I don’t complain if it’s someone else at the table. Ass Burger Boy found a hair in his salad, and the waitress was mortified. I laughed because he has been known to lick jello off the floor. We came back to the same place a week later, and the food was horrible. I reminded them we made no fuss about the hairy salad, and they comped us our meal. The thing is, when the food is horrible, there is a one bite rule. Allow the wait staff to see that you have declined to eat it. Wait for them to ask why. Then explain. This doesn’t work well when you’re famished.
I was a server/bartender/bitch for over 5 years. Ex-servers are THE WORST people to wait on. We critique everything and we expect everything to be perfect. Of course, we always tip at least 30% for good service, too.
And I LOVE the shorts. snort snort.
This is why I don’t own a scanner. There is no need for anyone to see any photos of me in my youth.
Because I had glasses like that. They were BLUE. And went well with my 10-foot high mall hair bangs.
Maybe I should get a scanner. Hilarity would ensue.
Still Bossy’s beating heart! What a Stella double. Let’s hope she has similar longevity. Thanks for the photo (and the rest - which look like Bossy’s own family album!)
Great photo’s - loved the scanner and every other item it could be! Just catching up right now - glad to have you back.
She who was a waitress at various times through her life understands your issues with your experience. Whatever happened to customer service?
I worked at a department store throughout high school and much of college, so I become frustrated super quickly when retail employees are unhelpful. I mean, I KNOW that major department stores can query their entire network of stores, nationwide, via their computer to find an item if it is out of stock! If the employee does any less, they’re slacking.