And here I thought I was done getting bent about the people who make my food… I was in our company cafeteria yesterday and got into it with the grill guy.
Lunchtime is usually the high point of my day. (OK, call it a “tie” with dinnertime.) Sometimes I eat in, other times I go out somewhere downtown. It all revolves around the weekly menu. Every Monday, I print the cafeteria “Specials” menu from the café website. I circle the specials that look yummy, and eat out on the other days. (Unless I’m on a salad binge, which I desperately need to do more frequently.)
Anyway, Wednesday’s special was a turkey burger with ham and Swiss. I looked forward to it all day. When I went down to place my order, I told Grill Guy, I’d have the “ham and Swiss burger.” All is fine, and I wait for my order to come up. I waited alone, because I was the only one at the grill.
After a few moments, I saw him throw some mushrooms on the grill. Now, I’m all for mushrooms, but I never ordered any, so that led me to believe there might be some kind of miscommunication going on.
To be sure, I asked if he was making me the ham and Swiss burger special, and right off, he started giving me attitude. He said something about the special being chicken, and I ordered a Swiss and mushroom burger.
That’s when we got into the debate about what the day’s special was. He kept saying how a chicken sandwich was the special… I kept saying “
ok, but how would anyone know that, if it’s not on your sign?”
I felt I had some pretty compelling evidence. I knew it was on the website menu, plus that’s what it said on the sign right in front of the order station… which I picked up and plopped on his side of the counter for him to see. Gotta have presentation skills, you know?
So he went over to consult with the “chef” who manages the café operations, to get to the bottom of all this.
Long story short, they changed the daily special, but didn’t tell anyone outside of the kitchen about it, change their signage or update the menu. OK, fine. But don’t tell me I ordered something I know damned well I didn’t. And certainly not with a “oh now what?” expression on your face.
No one’s going to piss on this boy’s boot and tell him it’s raining.
Anyway, we worked it out. I ate what he had already started, since my lunch time was ticking away, AND I certainly had nothing against mushroom and Swiss. But still, I had been looking forward to that ham and Swiss… At least until he offered to add some bacon to my sandwich.