What am I about to relate to you may cause trauma for those with weaker stomachs, a phobia of people doing creepy things to your food, or pregnant women. Please consult your doctor before consuming internally.
So me and my father went to Dairy Queen (if you don’t know, it’s a large fast food chain, specializing in ice cream products) to get some of those newfangled chocolate covered waffle bowl things.
We placed our order, and as the cashier was ringing it up, dear ol’ dad asked the fateful question: “Are they dipped in chocolate?” and the cashier responed with “Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t actually have any chocolate covered ones, the machine broke”.
Good job, Mr. Minimum Wage. Perhaps you could have told us that before dad was handing you his debit card.
So we went with regular sundaes instead. No sense in paying an extra $2 per… uhm… desert thingy, when they weren’t even going to have chocolate on them.
Then it went downhill. Quickly. Painfully.
There was this one girl, walked up to the Blizzard machine. Put a cup under it, pulled the lever, and the machine made a sound like a near empty whipped cream spray can, except much louder. And splattered ice cream like substance all over the floor and this girl.
What we quickly ascertained to be the manager on duty, judging by the aura of confidence and competence (who shall henceforth be referred to as Manager Woman) came by and said to use the drive through machine, this one was obviously nearly empty.
So this girl leaves, and comes back a few seconds later with a fistful of paper towel, squats down, and starts wiping. I say “Guess they don’t have a mop”. The manager person, as if one cue, says “use the mop”, so the girl, tosses the paper towel, and grabs the mop… which is precisely a forearms’ reach away from where this girl is. So she mops, and gets back on duty.
My dad laughs, and I say “Spoke too soon”.
25 seconds later, a young lad walks by and slips on the freshly mopped floor. Betcha didn’t see that one coming.
About this time, an order of onion rings and some spicy chicken thing is placed in the outgoing food dispenser rack… thing. Can you tell I’ve never worked in one of these places? I’ll get back to the onion rings.
So me and my dad are waiting, to see what happens next, out of morbid curiosity.
The girl who just tried making a blizzard with the near empty machine walks over with a new cup and tries to use it again. Same result, ice cream stuff everywhere, a total mess. Manager Woman said “Don’t use that machine, use the drive through one”.
Hold up a sec. Didn’t she just say that? 40 seconds ago? To the same person?
Manager Woman… I’d like to say walked, as that is technically what she was doing, but it was more like swiftly striding in a manner that says “I can and will &*^@ you up”. Anyways, she moves over to help out with the desert people, and within a few seconds says “Whoever is making the banana splits, please remember to peel them first.”
At this point, my brain started packing its bags.
So we stood and watched. Father and son, awaiting our order, watching total chaos express itself as a fat… err, fast food joint. Ok, sorry, that was horrible. To be fair, everyone in line was either fit, sweaty, and ready for some ice cream after a nice day of summer, or had three or four little kids in tow who adored the very idea of anything that contains sugar within any geometrical object.
We watched a girl make a sundae, and, finding it was leaning over to one side, ran her finger around it to straighten it up. She then licked off her finger, wiped it on her jeans (specifically, the ass part of her jeans) and moved on to the next sundae.
We watched a guy make a sundae, and, finding it was leaning over to one side, hold it sideways so it would straighten due to gravity. It fell on the floor. I’m betting someone slipped on that too.
The people standing in line behind us, a young, athletic looking couple, were exchanging horrified looks at this point. The man said “Walk away. Walk away quickly. Don’t make eye contact” and they left.
Approximately ten minutes have passed. We get our order (we watched it carefully, nothing worse than someone who appears to have never even seen whipped cream before was visited upon our deserts), and start to leave.
The order of onion rings and the chicken stuff was still sitting there. It looked rather lonely.
So whenever you find yourself angry at what incompetence you perceive Blizzard to have, whether it be their billing department, account management, whatever, just remember that you could have gotten an idiot who didn’t know that you had to peel bananas before eating them.
You could have had a nitwit helping you. Instead, you have an educated nitwit helping you.
Heh, I tied that with WoW rather nicely.
Stay tuned, I’m going to try connecting public transportation and toasters to WoW next.