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Sunday, Jul. 05, 2009

I should’ve known better

Last week I was having a debate with myself about where I would eat lunch. There were two fast food restaurants nearby and I had to choose. One is known for its customer service, but I had just eaten there recently. The other, just across the highway, has been a disappointment every time I’ve eaten there. Against my better judgment, and the lure of something I’ve not had in a while, I decided to take a chance.

When I walked in the door I almost turned around and left. I should have. It was an omen of things to come. There was an employee asleep at one of the tables right by the door. He was obviously on break, but it’s lunchtime and almost everyone entering the restaurant could see him.

The sleeping employee wasn’t the half of it. The supervisors, all female by the way, saw him and didn’t say a word. That told me two things: Either they didn’t know to care about what a sleeping employee at the front of their restaurant looked like, or they were mothering him. Either way, that says a lot about the level of supervision.

Let’s say they were mothering him. That’s not doing the young man any favors. At some point in his working life he’s going to run into a supervisor that will pitch a fit if he decides to take a nap, break or not. The young man will be out of sorts wondering what he did wrong.

If supervisors didn’t realize a sleeping employee would send an instant message to customers that this restaurant doesn’t care, I feel sorry for them.

I overruled my misgivings, always a bad thing to do, and ordered a meal. They had a new Angus burger that looked pretty good and I had been hankering for my once-a-month treat of hot French fries.

I ordered and sat down to wait for my name to be called. To my left, a woman and her three kids, who were using the inside playground as their own personal, air-conditioned romping area, were having a disagreement. One boy was in the midst of a temper tantrum. He wanted everyone in the restaurant to hear him. Oh, he wailed. The parent however seemed nonplused by his antics.

My name was called and I retrieved my meal. So far, so good, but I had neglected to ask for fresh fries. I know a customer shouldn’t have to do that. Everyone knows there is nothing worse than cold, you-know-from-where, French fries.

I opened the package containing the new Angus burger and it looked great. However, there was something about it — and that “it” hit my taste buds in an instant. It was cold. Apparently my burger had either sat under the lights too long (the bread was slightly hard) and the meat colder than a corpse.

I started to complain, but why? If you’ll let an employee sleep on the job, what’s the big deal about a cold meal?

If I had followed my original intention, I would be across the street, where I know they keep an eye on such.

Where I sat, a couple of hundred yards away, they obviously don’t.

I only had myself to blame as I ate my cold burger; another lesson learned — another blankity-blank location of this national chain marked off my list. It will not get another chance to disappoint, it doesn’t matter how good the fries, when they are good, can be.

Charles E. Richardson is the Telegraph’s editorial page editor. He can be reached at 478-744-4342 or via e-mail at crichardson@macon.com.