Worst Customer Service Failure in my LIFE!
Cascade McDonald Manager deserves to suffer the reign of terror of a that-time-of-month Karen, Karenizing for Justice and all that is Good and Holy fast food. She is our white knight, our Valkyrie -- but I am a gentlemen and would prefer to suffer than to complain at some hapless customer service worker who isn't even responsible for management's follies, wondering how he will pay off his college debt if he can't keep this "least of all possible jobs," feeling abused by self-entitled losers who lack a puppy at home to kick in the face -- apparently.
I work in customer service and have had some "mighty fine gentlemen" as customers, store code at our Starbucks for absolute bitch or cretin-spittle assholes. I never wanted to be a karen. My heart goes out to customer service workers everywhere.
Tonight I experienced the WORST customer service interaction of my long, 45-year-old life. By the end of the interaction, I was seething and chanting, "KARANIZE THIS BITCH" -- though my daughter, who hasn't had panic attack in over 5 years -- she's come so far with her mental health since her tweens! -- back when she was eleven, was having a panic attack and I respect her needs over mine, so I kept as polite as possible.
Wife placed order at 955. She had difficult day with chores and such and wanted us to work out a dinner and was waiting for us to come home so she could sleep. She was holding out, conscientious she, to ensure her family was safe, healthy, happy.
I also told a friend I would meet her online at 1030pm and my word matters to me and my family and friends. I hate to break such duty and obligation as honoring my own word.
We pulled up to the drive thru and a robotic fake-human asked if we ordered with your online app. I said yes. I waited. And waited. And waited. Ten minutes. The other guy who went to your second, farther out, alternative lane got serviced and swung around and got his food. I didn't want to be rude, but I just I pulled to the to the first window. A woman made eye-contact with me and ignored me while she counted out money. Change of shift? I can forgive that. Those are stressful for staff. She made eye contact but in no further way recognized my existence as a living human being. I pulled to second window. Waited. Made eye-contact again, with another staff. Was ignored. Are they being robbed? Should I dial the police? Does an ex gf work here? What the heckles? And they were up! My hackles were jacked, my friend. Not often can I get miffed like this!
I went in to the actual physical lobby to get my order in person, and waited for ten minutes more and at their front desk they ignored me after making eye contact.
I went back outside. Confirmed order with wife. Said it aloud three times to be sure, prepared to say it again. Drove around. Guy in front of me just left after making his order. A man did confirm the order was in the system and to pick it up at the second, service-fulfillment window. Prior guy pulled away. I waited. Again. After five minutes a young woman looked confused that they had no order for me. I asked quietly if they were ill-managed. She looked around cautiously. I said, just nod if your management is bad. She nodded. Her heart looked pained. Shame and terror claimed her face but she hid it under her costumer service mask. Tragic, this one.
I pulled around again and this time the guy taking my order asked me the letter/number code five times. I said, Should I come to the window to tell you? He said okay. I did. I told it to him. He said pull ahead. I went to the second window. They said the order was invalid. Not in the system. Did I go to the right McDonalds? Very much yes, I said and insisted. I gave my order number again and this time it finally worked.
They gave me the blue slushy drink I ordered, twice in a row. Two different sizes. I ordered one, small, and also received a large extra. Confusing! I promised my daughter I wouldn't say a thing because she was having panic attack. I finally did get my order -- we left. And my 16-year-old daughter WEPT on the way home. She doesn't do that. At all. She's hilarious and strong and amazing. They reduced her to tears. And myself to palpitations.
I don't want a coupon, or an apology, or an explanation. Those are cheap and you have a multibillion corporation. You can spit those out like bits of lard. I had felt my blood pressure rising. I've never had a heart attack but I do take blood pressure medicine. Your entire corporation lacks the resources to pay me back and the level I respect my own time and how I am treated. You lack the funds. Don't try. All I ask is you get your store in Cascade Michigan, 28th street in order, lest some man less self-controlled than me can order in a reign of terror, a reign of Karen, and Karennize your behinds in a way you totally deserve. For my part, I would rather eat out of a city trash dumpster than return to that living nightmare you call a McDonalds!
Daniel Christopher Williston June
Cascade McDonald Manager deserves to suffer the reign of terror of a that-time-of-month Karen, Karenizing for Justice and all that is Good and Holy fast food. She is our white knight, our Valkyrie -- but I am a gentlemen and would prefer to suffer than to complain at some hapless customer service worker who isn't even responsible for management's follies, wondering how he will pay off his college debt if he can't keep this "least of all possible jobs," feeling abused by self-entitled losers who lack a puppy at home to kick in the face -- apparently.
I work in customer service and have had some "mighty fine gentlemen" as customers, store code at our Starbucks for absolute bitch or cretin-spittle assholes. I never wanted to be a karen. My heart goes out to customer service workers everywhere.
Tonight I experienced the WORST customer service interaction of my long, 45-year-old life. By the end of the interaction, I was seething and chanting, "KARANIZE THIS BITCH" -- though my daughter, who hasn't had panic attack in over 5 years -- she's come so far with her mental health since her tweens! -- back when she was eleven, was having a panic attack and I respect her needs over mine, so I kept as polite as possible.
Wife placed order at 955. She had difficult day with chores and such and wanted us to work out a dinner and was waiting for us to come home so she could sleep. She was holding out, conscientious she, to ensure her family was safe, healthy, happy.
I also told a friend I would meet her online at 1030pm and my word matters to me and my family and friends. I hate to break such duty and obligation as honoring my own word.
We pulled up to the drive thru and a robotic fake-human asked if we ordered with your online app. I said yes. I waited. And waited. And waited. Ten minutes. The other guy who went to your second, farther out, alternative lane got serviced and swung around and got his food. I didn't want to be rude, but I just I pulled to the to the first window. A woman made eye-contact with me and ignored me while she counted out money. Change of shift? I can forgive that. Those are stressful for staff. She made eye contact but in no further way recognized my existence as a living human being. I pulled to second window. Waited. Made eye-contact again, with another staff. Was ignored. Are they being robbed? Should I dial the police? Does an ex gf work here? What the heckles? And they were up! My hackles were jacked, my friend. Not often can I get miffed like this!
I went in to the actual physical lobby to get my order in person, and waited for ten minutes more and at their front desk they ignored me after making eye contact.
I went back outside. Confirmed order with wife. Said it aloud three times to be sure, prepared to say it again. Drove around. Guy in front of me just left after making his order. A man did confirm the order was in the system and to pick it up at the second, service-fulfillment window. Prior guy pulled away. I waited. Again. After five minutes a young woman looked confused that they had no order for me. I asked quietly if they were ill-managed. She looked around cautiously. I said, just nod if your management is bad. She nodded. Her heart looked pained. Shame and terror claimed her face but she hid it under her costumer service mask. Tragic, this one.
I pulled around again and this time the guy taking my order asked me the letter/number code five times. I said, Should I come to the window to tell you? He said okay. I did. I told it to him. He said pull ahead. I went to the second window. They said the order was invalid. Not in the system. Did I go to the right McDonalds? Very much yes, I said and insisted. I gave my order number again and this time it finally worked.
They gave me the blue slushy drink I ordered, twice in a row. Two different sizes. I ordered one, small, and also received a large extra. Confusing! I promised my daughter I wouldn't say a thing because she was having panic attack. I finally did get my order -- we left. And my 16-year-old daughter WEPT on the way home. She doesn't do that. At all. She's hilarious and strong and amazing. They reduced her to tears. And myself to palpitations.
I don't want a coupon, or an apology, or an explanation. Those are cheap and you have a multibillion corporation. You can spit those out like bits of lard. I had felt my blood pressure rising. I've never had a heart attack but I do take blood pressure medicine. Your entire corporation lacks the resources to pay me back and the level I respect my own time and how I am treated. You lack the funds. Don't try. All I ask is you get your store in Cascade Michigan, 28th street in order, lest some man less self-controlled than me can order in a reign of terror, a reign of Karen, and Karennize your behinds in a way you totally deserve. For my part, I would rather eat out of a city trash dumpster than return to that living nightmare you call a McDonalds!
Daniel Christopher Williston June
No comments:
Post a Comment