The night before last, we decided that we wanted Subway. There are two shops in the neighborhood - one in the strip mall, one up the road about a mile in a gas station/convenience mart. Since the one in the strip mall is closer, we opted for that one.
We walked in and were practically blasted out the door by the loudest, most obscene rap music I've ever heard, and the two teenagers behind the counter were singing along with gusto. Now, I'm used to Subway personnel having their favorite radio station on in the store. There are usually only 2 people working at a time, they get bored in between customers, fine, let 'em have their music. But there should probably be a rule about having the most offensive music you can find on, especially in a place of business.
We stepped up to the counter anyway, where we waited for several minutes while they danced and pranced and sang. They barely stopped singing long enough to ask for our order, and didn't pay attention at all.
We'd like a foot long BMT, a foot long dijon melt, and two six inch subs. Please make the foot longs first, then we'll take care of the six inch subs.
We repeated the order twice.
They kept singing, every third word or so "fuck" or "bitch". <*blink*> I'm no stranger to salty language, but I'd rather not hear it coming out of the mouths of the people who are supposed to be taking care of my food while I'm standing right in front of them. It's rude and unprofessional.
They made it through the BMT without too much trouble, though the spouse critter had to repeat himself three times when he asked for extra olives. Midway through dressing the dijon melt, though, I noticed that the second girl had begun making the six inch subs, even though we had not told her what we needed on them yet.
Excuse me, are those part of our order? We haven't decided what we need on those yet.
"You said clubs!" (And she continued singing along to the radio.)
No, I'm afraid not. We didn't ask for clubs.
"Well, it's NOT a big deal!"
"I SAID it's NOT a big deal!" (and she proceeds to pull the meat off the subs and slam the lids on the make line around after flinging the meat back into the bins.)
You might be able to hear your customers better if you turned the radio down a little bit.
"You don't get to tell me what to do with the fuckin' radio!"
We walked out without a word, the two of them shrieking "fucking assholes!" at our backs.
Contrast this with the Subway at the gas station, where we went after leaving the one in the strip mall. One teenager behind the counter, she too listening to the rap music station. Except...it wasn't up to a ridiculous volume, she wasn't dancing and singing behind the counter (she was cleaning), and she asked for our order before the door had even closed behind us.
The difference in service was amazing.
Isn't there some sort of standardized training at Subway? If there is, where the hell was it at the first one? Sheesh.