After I get off work I have fifteen minutes to catch the bus, give or take. So yesterday at 4:30pm, I hurry downstairs and head over to the McDonald's, planning to buy a snack for me and some friends. I get in line. At about 4:37pm, I get up to the cashier.
Me: I'd like two junior chickens and a mcdouble, please.
Cashier: Okay, that'll be $x.xx.
Me: *pays and moves over. At this point, I catch sight of the guy who makes the sandwiches putting more junior chickens into the fryer and catch the attention of the runner* Do you guys not have enough junior chickens?
Runner: We only have one.
Me: Then can I get my money back? I don't have time to wait. *it is now 4:40pm, and Cashier is in the middle of a long, complicated order.*
Runner: If you want, we can do two mcdoubles and one junior chicken.
Me: Sure, that's fine.
Runner: *goes into back and speaks to guy making the sandwiches. He quickly makes up the food while she is standing there watching him and gives it to her. Runner gives me the bag and I run out to the bus and make it just in time.*
So where's the bad_service/wtf you say? Well, when I got home, I found out he'd given me three McDoubles and no junior chickens. -_-
Minor bad service, but still annoying.
Minor in that it went by in the span of five minutes.
I was having a real time of it today, just in all and all bad day. While waiting for my next class, my blood sugar completely dropped out. I admit, I’m pushing myself a little hard on a diet. I thought I could get away with eating a lunch of two apples. I couldn’t. I went to the campus cafeteria and nothing really tripped my trigger enough, and it was over priced. So I forced myself, while feeling extremely faint, to the library, which was only a small distance away. They have a Starbucks there, and I remembered them having a small bake goods stand. That seems to sound good enough, so I make my way there. I’ve only been there once, and it was some time ago, to the point I couldn’t remember what I had.
I walk in, and the lady goes to take my order. I answer, “I’d like a small green tea frapp,”
before I can say anything more, I get a, “A what?! We don’t have that! We have *rattle rattle rattle.*!!!”
I mean, this woman went on, and she wouldn’t let me get a word in edge wise, and she’s like yelling at me as if I should know better, as if everyone in the student body of a medium sized university has been at this dinky little Starbucks. I couldn’t even understand all the drinks she was rattling off, she was going that fast. You know the sound Dino made in the Flintstones? That’s what it was like, only she was yelling it at me.
I finally get through with a, “THEN I would like an iced coffee. Small.” I’m just so off put that when she asks me if I want her to leave room for cream, I say no. I take soy in mine anyways, so I doubt they even had that and I didn’t feel like getting yelled at for that as well. Then she rings me up, without even asking if that was it. Extremely minor, I know. So then I say, “I wanted a bagel too, please,” and she practically rolls her eyes and goes, “WHAT KIND?!” To me there only looked to be one kind of bagel so I was like, “O_o?” and replied, “Whatever kind that’s in the case.”
Anyways, finally get wrung up, and victoriously. I pay, I sugar my coffee because I need the sugar, and I look to the trash can and oh god. . . It’s overflowing. The café isn’t even busy. I got served right away, there were two ‘Baristas,’ if you want to call them that, the one being the one that ‘served’ me. Why couldn’t someone take out the trash? Squiggle my nose, I leave and I start horking my coffee down.
Freaking stale coffee.
My washing machine is not working properly and I need to call for service, and that reminded me of a time years ago when I needed service on my old washing machine. I don't recall all the details, but my basement had flooded and so I needed my machines checked out and I was refraining from using them until they'd been checked. The day the service guy came, I was sick with the flu. I remember answering the door, pointing him toward the basement and telling him to do what he needed to do and I'd be here dying on the couch.
He came, he fixed, I signed a paper and paid him and he left. And then I flopped back on the couch wishing for death.
Cue a day or two later when I was feeling better enough that I ventured downstairs to throw in a load of laundry. What do you suppose I find down there? A bucket full of shit!!! @_@ My husband and I could only speculate that the guy didn't want to disturb me or was embarrassed to ask to take a dump in our bathroom, so he did it in the bucket. And then left it there. My husband had to haul it out to the woods bordering our back yard and dump it. He may have even left the bucket out there; I don't remember. I wouldn't blame him if he did.
The good news was that the machine worked fine.