Meatball - name of the sandwich or the person who made it?
The husband and I tried to buy sub sandwiches over the weekend. (We had a coupon.)
We really tried.
But the woman behind the counter wasn't having any of it.
She informed us that her allergies had kicked in, and she was feeling a little loopy, so could we please repeat ourselves several times while she worked on our order.
That would have been okay except that she couldn't seem to find enough meatballs in the warming bucket to fill one sandwich. She dragged the spoon around the marinara sauce over and over... and over...
...and over...
"Why is there so much sauce in here?" she asked no one in particular.
...and over... and over...
"Oh, here's one."
... and over...
"I found three!" (She needed eight.) "Maybe I'll keep getting lucky."
All I can say is those must have been really good allergy drugs she had because she honestly believed meatballs would keep magically appearing in the warmed over bucket of sauce.
I tried to help. "Do you have any other meatballs in the fridge?"
"They'd be frozen."
... and over... and over...
The husband started putting two and two together. If new meatballs were frozen, and this was the very end of this bucket... "How long have these meatballs been sitting out?"
"Oh, we just switched them an hour ago."
"From the freezer or from one bucket to the other?"
"There's hot water under here. They're safe."
... and over...
Most restaurant service people, by now, would have suggested to us to choose another sandwich or advise us that the wait for more meatballs would be extensive.
But no.
She just kept fishing for those magic meatballs.
And the manager was very involved in restocking the napkins and could not be bothered to wonder why the only two people in the place were still standing, waiting for their order.
"You know what?" the husband finally said. "Forget it. We're leaving."
"Are you sure?" ... and over... and over...
A pointed look at the meatball tub. "Yeah. That's unforgivably unappetizing."
When we were out the door, I told the husband, "You know she's dumping those three meatballs back in the tub."
"I know."
Ick.
Have you ever been SO disgusted by a restaurant that you could never go back? Not just disappointed in the service that you hope you never get that waitress again, but so turned off you felt nauseated just thinking of that place?
Without naming names, please share....
7 comments:
I'd have to say the fast food joint I worked at about 17 years ago. We made the sandwiches from what was technically called "the meat lump". Once I was appointed assistant manager, it was my job to assess the quality of the stuff in the cooler. I found some "meat lumps" with green on them and promptly dumpstered them. The manager went ballistic, and sent New Guy out to save them from the dumpster. "Are you crazy?" she raged. "We just shave off the discolored parts! It's fine underneath!"
I lasted about another week.
Oh man,,,I've been to so many bad places I'd never return to...
Worst was a Chinese place in Ohio; the Spouse Thingy LOVED this place. It was tasty, and it was fast, and it was Chinese. He loves Chinese. On our 3rd or 4th visit there, I finally had to make use of the facilities. Holy carp, they hadn't been cleaned in MONTHS. The toilet was literally coated in ick and mold and the floor was sticky, obviously peed on multiple times and not mopped. No soap. The sink was black and obviously it started out white.
Just...gawwwwd. If they didn't clean the bathroom, how bad was the kitchen?
I grabbed the Spouse Thingy out of the line to the counter, told him --loudly-- about the restroom so other people would hear, and we never went back.
Yeah. Many places. I'd worked in the food industry for years, resteraunts (I never can spell that) coffee shops and my boys worked in a pizza place. Knowing what I know, I should never, NO ONE should ever, eat out.
But we do.
And don't even get me started on hot dogs. I know what they're all about and I eat them anyway.
Oh good grief! I don't have any *really* bad stories - though I have worked in the restaurant industry. I think I will jsut feel good about the state of *my* kitchen and food prep (and safety).
Blecchhhhh... :(
OMG...I shouldn't have read this post. It was like a prediction!
Tonight we went to our favorite place that we've been going to for years. (And we will go back, because we love the people, and they have never screwed up once.) But here's what went down: first, my martini came full of little floaty specks...of *something.* We aren't ones to complain, but it was wayyyy too obvious not to. The bartender graciously brought me a new drink for free.
Next, our meal came and there was a little piece of wire in my entree. Eeek! So they she us they would pick up our entire tab.
But then, when we were joking about how I would like a *clean* glass of chardonnay....she could not find one clean glass! Every glass had something wrong with it. Oy!
But, we're good friends with the manager and the bartender...plus we've been regulars for years. So I think this is a small issue (perhaps a bad employee/new hire) that they will fix.
But it was funny that I would read your post just before all of this happened. Too funny!
DogsDon'tPurr: When you know the owner/manager personally, it does make a difference. The husband's sister used to own a nice family restaurant, and one day I found a dead fly between my slices of buttered toast. She was very embarassed, but she was also very happy it was my toast and not someone else's.
But...
Wire? In your food? How does that happen?
Okay, I've got one to toss in the mix.
Hubby and I are at a fast food drive thru, waiting at the window for our food. This place has no "inside" seating.
We're talking and I look over to see a gi-normous cockroach crawling over the drive thru window! The employee is standing right there, unbothered by it!
That tells me their "ick" factor got raised from working there. I told them to cancel the order, refund our money and I have NEVER eaten there again. Nor will I ever.
DH has been back to other locations, but not this chicken. *shudder* That's just gross!
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