Taking orders becoming a lost art?

I’ve worked in fast food before, and I have sympathy for the employees.

However, as a customer, I have been annoyed more and more. It’s the lack of attention to detail that drives me crazy.

My husband and I seldom eat fast food, and never the really bad stuff that gives you a week’s worth of calories in one meal.

One of my favorite restaurants is actually pretty healthy — it’s on the bandwagon of no antibiotics in the chicken and no artificial flavorings in the salad dressing. (It also has quinoa, which I’ll admit I only learned how to pronounce this year.)

I am addicted to a particular salad with chicken, strawberries and pecans. Addicted. Last summer, more often than not, whoever made it left off the pecans. It became a joke. The employees are personable, and one even gave me a little container of nuts on the side — just in case.

This summer, the nuts are usually on there; it’s the chicken that’s sometimes missing. The main ingredient. It’s happened twice now.

When I get the order to go, I make sure I check it before I leave. One day there was no apple on the side. One day the side was wrong. One day, no nuts. One time I didn’t check it, and when I got back to the office, I realized it had no chicken. I called, and the assistant manager was incredulous. “You’re kidding me — no chicken?” He gave me a free salad, which I appreciated.

When I went to visit my parents in Jonesboro a few weeks ago, we ordered from that same chain. I drove in the pouring rain to get the food, and there was a wreck in front of the restaurant that I had to maneuver around — two cars and a police car.

When I got the big bag, I asked the cute little girl at the window, “Did you check the order?” She smiled a little condescendingly and said, “Yes.”

Well, then there shouldn’t be a problem. I got home, and one whole order was missing. I called and talked to a manager. I was nice — I told him I know mistakes happen and that they might have been busy. But she said she checked. He apologized profusely and sincerely, it seemed, that I was going to have to get back out in the rain. I suggested that he give me the kid’s meal that we decided to order for my nephew, as long as I was going back. He agreed. I asked him if he’d noticed how there was a lack of detail in the world today. He didn’t get into that discussion with me.

I drove back to the restaurant in the pouring rain, maneuvered around two cars, a police car, a firetruck and an ambulance. The manager came to the drive-thru window; the cute little liar was nowhere to be seen. The manager refunded my money, apologized again and told me he threw in a couple of cookies, too.

Again, I was nice. I know it’s hard to work in fast food. I remember two fast-food jobs I had that were especially depressing. One was at a pizza restaurant. I’ll never forget the couple who came in with their baby every week on buffet night and kept me running to get constant refills of bread. They weren’t friendly, and when they left, it looked like a gang of Jumanji monkeys had been at the table. They never left a tip.

I try to be a good customer. I’m respectful. I’m really pretty patient. I leave a good tip for good service.

I just expect my order to be right most of the time. At least I did.

Now I have a new philosophy: I expect my order to be wrong, so when every detail is right, I’m pleasantly surprised.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 and tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

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