Why does it always come back to ranting and raving about the lack of customer service with me? Why does it always come back around to the fact that the people that work in fast-food restaurants or mall food courts simply do not care what your schedule is? Heck, they don’t care what your order is. I guess it appears that my ranting and raving is usually focused on one area, but DAYAM, this is my life, and it is filled with an incredibly busy schedule which does not always work alongside the need to eat. So I apologize, but when I started writing this, it was going to be about my life, in all its infinite mediocrity.
It’s just that, well, people are stupid. Example No. 1. Imagine if you will, a normal family. A normal family with too much to do and very little time to do it in. Imagine that they pile into their apartment on wheels, knowing that they have approximately 20 minutes to do 20 things before getting across town for the volleyball game du jour. (Okay. Enough with the present tense. I’m gonna get confused.) So we ran to Wendy’s because it was close, because I could get something that didn’t involve a bun, mayonnaise, and cheese, and because they have a value menu. I tried to order my favorite salad. Out of that. Next favorite? Well, they had the salad, but not the dressing for it. Sorry, the mandarin chicken salad HAS to have that really good oriental dressing. Ok. Chicken tenders. Got the rest of the food, less the tenders, and she said she’d bring the tenders to me. I guess I was wrong to assume she meant that day. Twenty minutes later, diet coke drained, I went to ask about my tenders gone missing. “Oh. We gave them to someone in the drive-thru. It’ll be about ten more minutes.” And this was after they ignored me at the counter for about ten minutes. GIMMEMYMONEYBACK,GIMMEMYMONEYBACKYOUBITCH. Sing it, Ben.

And that experience comes right after the experience at the food court which can be summed up as such: They. Did. Not. Want. Me. To. Eat. To the point where I didn’t. To make it worse, I had a few dollars left on a mall gift card. (Which had occurred because those cute little boys at Abercrombie and Fitch, while nice to look at, don’t have a whole lot going on in the brain department. But that’s yet another story.) So to stave off hunger pangs, well, I thought I’d get rid of the small, annoying balance on the gift card by getting a cookie at the cookie place. “We no take that card.” Umm, it’s a mall gift card. You are in the mall. Oh geeze just forget about it. Here’s $2.17.

And that, of course, follows yet another experience with a certain mail order/internet catalog company who shall remain nameless – signals – because to tell you how absolutely horrendous their customer service is – signals – would be really, really – signals – well, wrong.

Will you people (not you people, of course) PLEASE let me give you my money?

My apologies for putting that Ben Folds song in your head for the rest of the day.

Signals.

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