There was a definite bad mood being spread from customer to customer, and I don't know how they managed to infect each other with their rudeness, but they did. In a big way.The day was all around not good--no one seemed to remember the words "please" or "thank you" nor did they want to treat the cashiers like human beings--but problems really got started with a woman I will dub as Souffle Lady. I could tell she was going to be a difficult one by the sour expression on her face that never went away. She arrived a little past 10:30; the cut off time for breakfast. A lot of people were disappointed today when we had to tell them that breakfast ends and the eggs and souffles are gone at 10:30. Understandable. You came to appease a tummy longing for breakfast and must now rethink your entire order. I know the pain of such a thing. However, this lady is not new to Panera. I've seen her in the morning hours before, and she knows breakfast ends at 10:30. First, she asked Azula for a souffle, even with the empty hot plate right in front of her. I guess she shouldn't be faulted for determination, but it is a bit irritating. Since it was only a minute or two past and we had just pulled souffles (they were still warm) Azula asked her which kind she wanted (she chose artichoke) and I rung it up while she plated it.
Time went by. More than five minutes, but less than an hour. The Souffle Lady came up to my register after she'd eaten the entire souffle and said, "I was going to tell the small one, but she's busy. She gave me the wrong souffle."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, knowing full well she got the Spinach/Artichoke one she asked for. "Which one did you order?"
"I asked for the artichoke, but she gave me the spinach."
It's so hard not to laugh in people's faces sometimes. "The spinach one is artichoke, dear. We have a spinach/artichoke and a spinach/bacon, so if it had spinach in it, it was one of those." But I knew it was the artichoke. I saw her put it on the plate.
"Well mine didn't have any artichoke in it. Like, through the whole thing there wasn't a single piece of artichoke."
I could have just left it, but the fact that she insulted first my coworker's competence and then our company's quality of food upset me. "Okaaay, our souffles are made with a special mix, so the artichoke is already mixed in with the spinach. Maybe the artichoke pieces were smaller than usual... sometimes there are big chunks, but not always."
Then, without any tone of apology or embarrassment (because of course, being the customer she can do no wrong) she huffs, "Well. I thought she gave me the wrong one."
Yeah, that must have been traumatizing. So traumatizing that you waited to eat the whole thing, sit for twenty minutes, and then come up to complain about it. In any case, I'm not sure what she expected to get by informing us. She knew the other souffles were expired and tossed out. Did she want Azula to get on her knees and beg pardon? Did she expect compensation for having to digest an entire delicious souffle that didn't seem like it was the right one? Or maybe a gift basket with some extra artichoke hearts to make up for her lack of them?
Souffle Lady was rude, but she was not the worst customer today by far.
Allow me to tell you a story about Smoothie Woman.
Azula did the ringing this time while I did my rounds of cleaning up the bakery. She called out, "Would you like to make a smoothie for me?" since she was in the process of bagging her pastries, and as per usual, I said, "I'd love to!" I glanced up at the person I'd be making a smoothie for and already she was glaring at me. I was confused, but undaunted. I happily tripped up to the barista station and went about fixing a Peach Nectar Smoothie. (Delcious!) A smoothie usually calls for a small scoop of ice, but I know the peach and a couple other flavors tend to come out more watery so I added a little extra ice for a thicker drink. I must say, it looked wonderful!
I was in the middle of washing my hands when Smoothie Woman grabbed her drink and shook it at me. "Is there a reason why this is so watery?"
Many answers ran through my mind. I honestly wasn't sure what to say at first. Her tone suggested that I'd done something weird to it, like added water to purposefully dilute her drink. Feeling a tad defensive that she would find my smoothie unsatisfactory after I tried extra hard to make it nice, I said with as much politeness as I could muster, "That is how the smoothies are."
I swear, I did not say it in a tone any less than polite. I didn't glare, roll my eyes, or sigh at her, all three of which I was dying to do. I simply answered her question the best I knew how. People are always mistaking a smoothie for a shake and complain about the thickness of said smoothies. A smoothie is made with fruit juice or puree, not ice cream. You ordered a smoothie made with low fat yogurt, so don't expect the same consistency as a Carl's Jr. die-happy-of-a-heart-attack ice cream milkshake, yeah? But this woman looked like she was in a hurry and I didn't know what exactly she was asking. I found her question worded quite poorly.
My mouth was literally open with the words, "I can make you a new one and try to get it thicker," right on the tip of my tongue when she slammed it back on the counter and said, "Never mind, then. I want a refund. Get me my money back."
"Okay," I said, and so very, very sick of today, went over to Little Dorrit to get her her refund. I was surprised that she hadn't asked for more details about what was in the smoothie, or how it's blended, or made any attempt to get a different drink, but I figured she was in a big hurry and would rather have her money back than take the time to get what she thought she ordered. I truly believed I was doing my best to appease her.
Silly me.
Little Dorrit is probably the sweetest person you'd ever meet. She apologized, not knowing what Smoothie Woman was unhappy about and asked her what was wrong.
"That smoothie is too watery."
"Oh, did you want us to make you another one with less ice in it?" (I think less ice would have made it worse, but there was no way in seven hells I was going to pipe in at that point. I could tell Dorrit when she remade it, not a minute sooner.)
"No," she spat. "What I wanted is for her to offer to make me another one, but she didn't, so I just want my money back."
I was in shock. I was having very unchristian thoughts that involved four letter words, smooshed into the phrase, "What the -bleep- lady!?" She had given me absolutely no chance to offer her anything. Between her ridiculously worded question and her demand for a refund, there was barely time for me to blink in confusion.
Little Dorrit was confused, too. People do not complain about me. I don't give them reason to. And this lady was acting like I'd spit in her food.
"Oh, I'm... sorry. She didn't offer...? That's... I'm sorry."
I was shaking with anger. All I could do is shake my head and bite my tongue as I felt my face grow warmer and warmer. I pretended to clean up some more and found a garbage to empty.
We needed a manager to clear the refund so Aurora came out to approve it. Being the disgustingly responsible person she is, Aurora also asked the customer how she was doing and what the problem was. The same bologna was repeated. "My smoothie is just too watery, and when I asked why, the girl said," (In a very bad imitation of me) "'That's just how a smoothie is,' and didn't offer to make me a new one."
I could tell by the look on her face that Aurora was surprised, too. It was her, "Nnno...that doesn't sound right," face. (And I love her for it. :)) But ever professional, she apologized and offered to make her a new one--as Dorrit had and I was about to before a refund was ordered. She refused, got her money back, and left.
After she'd gone, I explained the situation to Aurora and Dorrit. Aurora sifted the poor rejected smoothie out into the sink and said, "This smoothie is perfect, I don't know what her problem was."
I didn't either. But by her attitude, you'd think I'd enslaved her people and danced on her grave in a past life.
Bacon Lady wasn't much better.
She ordered two Smokehouse Turkey Paninis, one with the bacon extra crispy and the other with bacon on the side, also extra crispy.
It's a little known fact that we can't make our bacon extra crispy. We bake it once and keep it cold for the Bacon Turkey Bravos. Once it's grilled on the panini press inside the hot sandwich, that's the crispiest it's going to be. I wouldn't have bothered explaining the intricacies of our bacon cooking process to her, but she repeated the extra crispy part four times, and I did not want her calling in a complaint later and costing us money by guilting someone into giving her a free meal.
"Just to let you know, we can't cook the bacon anymore than it already is. I can have them grill the panini longer, but the bacon's already fully cooked. We just reheat it on the press when it's in the sandwich."
"Why can't you just cook the bacon more?"
"We make our vegetarian sandwiches on the same panini press as the others, and we can't let meat come in direct contact with the grill, or it would contami..."
She gave me a look like she thought I was an idiot and started talking over me before I'd finished. Obviously, other people's dietary restrictions and religious observances did not interest her. "Don't you have a microwave?"
That was a loaded question.
We have one, yes, but it absolutely cannot be used for anything but mac n' cheese and oatmeal. The bosses were VERY clear on that. I forget the exact reasons why, but they were important reasons, and I knew from this lady's behavior that trying to explain that to her would come across like I had all the resources to cook her bacon, I was just refusing to because I'm a horrible person.
So I pointed out the microwave we have out in the open for the guests' use. "We have one right under there for you, if you'd like me to put all the bacon on the side."
"No. I'm not going to deal with that. When it's just on the grill, the bacon comes out like it's raw. That's ridiculous. Isn't there a way I can get crispier bacon?"
What I wanted to say: Absolutely. Buy a pack of your own damn bacon and cook it at home, you lazy prat.
What I did say: Like I said before, I can have them grill the whole panini longer.
"No. It's very frustrating that I can't get crispier bacon. You need to have them fix that."
Sure. The economy is crap, our constitutional rights are being stripped, Cambodian children are starving, North Korea is testing rockets, the Syrians are engaged in internal conflict, but let me rush right away to "fix" the enormous problem of your not-so-crispy bacon.
Okay, so when you put it like that, none of us have the right to complain about any bad food service, ever. But really, people. Look at the big picture. You're coming into a casual dine-in restaurant hailed as the healthiest fast-food joint. You're obviously able to afford these nine dollar sandwiches, otherwise you wouldn't be coming in, so your lot in life can't be too rough. You're drinking clean water, being waited on with a smile, given a plethora of condiment and produce options, and yet none of this is good enough. You have to make a stink about a smoothie's thickness, a bacon's crispness, and the content of your souffle, without a thought for the work put into it or what it is you actually ordered.
Today I hate people because they've exhibited the very worst of our selfish, discourteous, and ungrateful society.
It wasn't until my shift was almost over that I figured out why everyone's a jerk today.
Taxes are due!!
I do love my job, but after today I can't wait to take a vacation.
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