My boyfriend and I are relaxing at home on a Sunday afternoon and decide to order some lunch for delivery. We agree on a “freaky fast” sub sandwich franchise we haven’t eaten from in a while.
The last time we ordered from there was about two years ago, and it was a big mess with the order going through, us waiting almost two hours, then driving down there to find them closed. There were employees in the building, cleaning or something, and they said they weren’t accepting orders. No one had called to tell us that – they just let our order sit there in their system for an eternity, without canceling it or anything.
We figure, two years later… it should be fine by now, right?
We place our order in the app and settle in to watch television while we wait.
An hour goes by with no food and no updates on the app, so my boyfriend calls the restaurant.
Boyfriend: “Hi, there. I placed an order on the app an hour ago, and I was just wanting to check on that, please.”
We can hear the employees giggling and goofing off in the background, as the very “I don’t care” attitude of the employee who answers the phone oozes forth:
Lazy Employee: “Uh… I don’t know. What was the name?”
Boyfriend: “James Jones.”
Lazy Employee: “Uh… guys, do we have an order for a James Jones? Oh, uh, yeah, here it is. We’ll make that for you and send it right now. Bye.”
Boyfriend: *To me.* “Yeah, they totally forgot about our order or something.”
Me: “Wow, and they didn’t exactly sound busy, from all the giggling.”
Half an hour later, the doorbell rings. The delivery guy is wearing dirty sweatpants, a baggy, stained non-uniform T-shirt, and Crocs. I mean… dress how you want, I guess, but it looked extremely unprofessional for a franchise chain delivery person. Whatever, we finally got our food.
We settle in with our bags of food in front of the television, happy to finally have our lunch.
I had ordered my sandwich toasted, so I grab the one that feels warm and unwrap it. I’m surprised to find it covered in oil, hot peppers, and other toppings that aren’t even close to the sandwich I ordered. (I ordered a basic turkey, ham, and provolone with lettuce and mayo, and requested no tomato).
Me: *Handing the sandwich to Boyfriend.* “Is this yours? Looks like they toasted the wrong one.”
Boyfriend *Inspecting the sandwich.* “It looks… kind of like mine. Except it’s missing all of the different meats that are supposed to be on there. This is just salami and hot peppers, it looks like.”
Me: “Geez… well, the other one must be mine, then. I’m annoyed that it’s not toasted, but whatever.”
I take the other sandwich and unwrap it. It’s nothing but roast beef and tomatoes.
Me: “They got mine completely wrong, too.”
Boyfriend: “Geez, what the actual heck?”
He calls the restaurant again.
Boyfriend: “Yeah, hi. I just had my order delivered and it is… completely wrong in every way.”
Lazy Employee: “Okay.”
Boyfriend explains the multitude of errors to the employee, even though it doesn’t seem like the employee cares one bit.
Lazy Employee: “Okay, we’ll remake it and send it back out. Bye.”
An entire hour goes by, and we’ve pretty much accepted the reality that we’re not actually getting our food. My boyfriend had given in and eaten his incorrect sandwich because he was too hungry to wait any longer.
I hate roast beef and tomatoes, so I refused to eat the one that was sent to me. The longer time ticked by, the hangrier I got. We hadn’t done our weekly grocery shop yet, so the only food we really had in the house was rice and cereal, and I needed protein. Otherwise, I would have just eaten something else rather than stake my entire being on this one sandwich.
I’m just about to walk outside and hop in the car to drive down to the restaurant and stand there until they remake the food in front of my eyes… when the doorbell rings.
Our window is open, and the same sweatpants delivery guy is there. My hunger and annoyance take over and I loudly and snarkily say:
Me: “Wow, it’s been another entire hour! That was ‘freaky fast’!”
My boyfriend thinks it best that he answers the door, due to my mood that has plummeted to the depths of B*tchyville, due to waiting two and a half hours for a freaking sandwich.
I open the bag, and they actually got the darn order correct this time, thank the gods.
Me: “I’m sure this thing is covered in petty employee spit, but I don’t give a s*** at this point.”
I happily devour my sandwich, my mood improving with every bite, and we enjoyed the rest of our Sunday.
I did check the reviews online, and this location has tons of negative feedback about long delivery times, poor communication, and incorrect orders. Yeah, we’re never ordering from there, again.
Related:
Sub-Standard Sub-Service, Part 9
Sub-Standard Sub-Service, Part 8
Sub-Standard Sub-Service, Part 7
Sub-Standard Sub-Service, Part 6
Sub-Standard Sub-Service, Part 5