Play nice or be at the business end of my snark. (kettlechip) wrote in bad_service,
Play nice or be at the business end of my snark.

I just want a sandwich. Please.

Again, with the disclaimer of "not really bad service, but more like WTF service."

Second disclaimer: It very well may have been the case that this girl was quite new, but for the love of Wendell, please listen to what's being ordered. And we were quite polite up until the last three minutes of the transaction. I hate EBs.

My husband and I were driving from Edmonton to Vancouver last night and decided to stop at the Tim Hortons in Kamloops, B.C. for a quick dinner of a sandwich and a bowl of soup each. They have combo meals available in which you get your sandwich, a bowl of soup and a medium coffee or a can of soda. The word "can" is important.

Me: *waves*
Brad: husband
K: Tim Hortons cashier

K: Hi, can I help you?
Brad: Hi there. Both of our orders are going to be on the same bill.
K: Okay. Go right ahead.
Brad: I'll have a toasted club sandwich combo on white, with the cream of broccoli soup and a can of Sprite, please.
K: Oh. The Sprite will cost extra.
Brad: But your sign says the meal comes with a medium coffee or a can of pop.
K: But the Sprite will cost extra. It's in a bottle.
Brad: But I'm asking for a can of Sprite. Are you out of canned soda and only have bottles available right now? (he's being quite earnest and very polite still)
K: You'll have to pay extra because of the deposit.
Brad: I'm asking because a medium coffee OR a can of pop comes with the meal. If you're out of cans, that's fine, I just want to know.
K: It's in a bottle. You'll have to pay extra.
Brad (getting a little agitated): Tell me how I would get a can of Sprite, please. I just want a can of Sprite with my meal.
K: I'll put the Sprite on your combo, but you'll have to pay extra.
Brad: *sigh* Fine. Whatever. I'll take what you have.
K: Can or bottle?
Brad: *facepalm*

Then she turns to me for my order. At this point I'm contemplating going to the other cashier just to avoid some kind of a trainwreck.

Me: I'll have a small chicken salad sandwich combo on brown, please, with a bowl of cream of broccoli soup.
K: So you want the chicken salad wrap?
Me: No, just the sandwich, please, on brown bread.
K: *looking really confused* So ... the wrap that we have advertised right now? *pointing to the sign that clearly advertises chicken salad wrapped in a flour tortilla*
Me: No, a sandwich. On a bun. Bread.
K: *vacant stare*
Fellow in the line behind us: Bread. Not a tortilla. Bread.
K: Oh, okay. So you'd like the sandwich, then?
Me: *sighing in resignation* Yes, the sandwich. On brown bread.
K: And what would you like to dri --
Me: Coffee, please *remembering the hell my husband had to go through just to get a Sprite*
K: And what bread would you like that on?
Me: *sigh* Brown, please.
K: So not the wrap?
Me: No, not the wrap. A sandwich with bread. Brown bread. Please.
K: *looking offended* And what kind of doughnut?
Me: Sour cream glazed, please.

Doughnuts do not come with this combo. At this stage I was not going to point out her error because the once-empty restaurant now had a lineup out the door, and it was obvious the natives were restless. And we wanted to get home before 5 in the morning.

Brad picks up our meals, we head to a table where our friend was sitting, and we finally sit down and nosh. After we sat down, we overheard the cashier who was just serving us say to her co-worker, "God, what does she think I am, stupid? Did you hear the way she talked to me? She was talking to me like I was some kind of idiot!"

On the upside, we got a free doughnut out of it, which we gave to our friend to take home to her boyfriend. So keep in mind, folks, go to the Tim Hortons in Kamloops, B.C., and get a free doughnut with your meal, along with a huge headache.
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