Tonight we dine in hell
I'm usually a patient person.
You're half an hour late for our appointment? No problem. Stuff happens. I've been there.
Waiter messed up an order? I'm the one telling my dad (whose pet peeve is bad restaurant service) to calm down. At least complain after the food is served - because in Malaysia (or anywhere else for that matter, if Waiter Rant is anything to go by), they're certainly not beneath making creative alterations to your meal out of spite.
When I was a boutique retail assistant, I graciously attended to indecisive customers who got my undivided attention for up to an hour, even if it meant they needed that amount of time to go through half the clothes in the store only to decide to buy one item or none at all. It's their right and my job.
So really, I'm patient.
But I, like any other person, have my bad days too.
Some rare people, Mother Theresa for instance - have bottomless pools of patience that shine like eternal salvation.
I do not possess such limitless reserves.
It starts with a simple pizza order over the phone at 9.05 p.m., Feb 4.
I would have made the order online, except the link which proudly advertises an online ordering option doesn't work, and has not for the months it has been up. I even thought it might have been my Opera browser at first, because while I love it like circus monkeys travelling through a desert would love coconuts I am aware it has some compatibility issues. I tried Firefox and IE - the online registration link still did not work. Nevermind, making phone orders aren't that much more of a hassle. So I do.
(Dominos has a painless online ordering system btw, so kudos to them.)
The phone delivery customer service rep takes down my order for a regular pizza + garlic bread + 2 cans of Coke combo costing RM25.90. I tell him I want the RM3.00 upgrade to a 1.5 litre bottle of Pokka Green Tea, which means instead of the 2 cans of Coke (which I do not want because I detest regular Coke), my drinks will be replaced with said bottle of 1.5 litre Pokka Green Tea. Fabulous.
Customer service rep acknowledges the upgrade. Before he hangs up, I prompt him for the total (nevermind that it's unusual for him to not inform me of the total charge). I'm a nice customer and always try to give exact change or close to the delivery person (the delivery guy keeps the change; and yes, I'm the sort who tips if I'm happy with the service at a restaurant, even though we have a service tax billed into the total).
He tells me the total is RM30.20.
In my headache-addled mind (probably induced by sleep deprivation and stress), I choose to assume the total is correct. This is my first error in judgement.
I ready RM30.50, which is the closest amount I have to the quoted total.
At 9.54 p.m. (thank you cell phone records), the pizza store calls to inform me the delivery guy can't deliver right to my condominium unit. I have to go to the lobby to collect my order. While this strikes me as odd (this store has delivered to my doorstep before), I give them the benefit of the doubt and say fine, I'll head downstairs. Sometimes the security guards get a bit more vigilant than usual.
I take nothing but my keys and RM30.50. This is my second error in judgement.
22 floors later, I approach the delivery guy.
He hands me a cold wet plastic bag. I note that the garlic bread has been unceremoniously squashed with 2 cans of ice cold Coke, its previously warm, phallic-shaped mass reduced to a sorrily limp aluminium foil-wrapped lump. My razor sharp observation skills (not really, but they've been generously inspired by current episodes of 24, there should be a monument of Jack Bauer right next to the Statue of Liberty as far as I'm concerned) lead to the realisation that the defeated garlic bread isn't the main problem.
The 2 cans of Coke which I did not order prompt my vocal chords to remedy the situation.
Before I can enunciate my confusion, Delivery Guy hands me the pizza and receipt and looks at me expectantly for payment.
"I upgraded the drinks to the Pokka Green Tea option in my order. Where is the green tea?"
Delivery Guy looks inside the clearly empty motorcycle trunk and makes some rummaging motions, somehow hoping the arbitrary gesture will appease me.
"Green tea out of stock. Total RM33.35." I'm irked they didn't bother to call and inform me of this, but decide it's not worth getting worked up about.
"Ah. And that's strange, the guy on the phone said the total was RM30.20."
I'm slightly annoyed at myself for not double-checking the total, and for not bringing my wallet along in the rare event Guy On Phone mucked up the total and I had to pay extra.
I take the receipt from Delivery Guy and check it:
They still charged me for the RM3.00 upgrade to the non-existent green tea. I point that out to Delivery Guy.
"The total is inclusive of the delivery charge." Delivery Guy responds in a confident I-can't-believe-you-don't-understand-this tone.
"Really? Let me go get the extra RM3.00 then." I'm in no mood to argue, so I pay him the RM30.50 in hand and resign myself to a 22 floor round trip. In the time it takes me to get up via lift, grab my wallet and head back down, I study the receipt and realise I was right, they did charge me for the tea, and the correct charge without the tea is RM30.20. So Guy On Phone somehow quoted me the total without the tea, while consciously ringing up a total including the tea, yet the order arrived without the tea. Amazing.
I approach Delivery Guy, show him the receipt and explain to him in detail they've overcharged me. My politeness is for naught as he responds brusquely, "33.35. If you have a problem call the area manager."
My headache reminds me the displeasure of my blood vessels is increasing. I make my third error in judgement.
"Fine." I give him the RM3.00 I shouldn't be paying. "I'll just never order from you guys again."
"Call the area manager." Right. Because you can't be arsed to employ some basic listening and math skills to resolve the issue on the spot.
I march back to my condo unit. The significant other happens to be on MSN. I explain what happened.
"That's bull. Call the area manager and complain!"
"I'm doing that right now." I dial the delivery line and give Different Guy On Phone my order details and explain the situation. He apologises (good on him, wasn't even his fault) and says the manager will call me back.
At 10.02 p.m., a guy with a thick accent (possibly Bangladeshi or Pakistani) calls.
"Hello, we are sending the green tea now. Arriving in 5 minutes. Please go down to the guard house." I'm irritated by the lack of a basic apology, and further irritated they expect a lone female to take a lengthy walk down to the guard house when it's past 10.
"Could you get your delivery person to come up to the lobby instead?" I restrain my curt tone from morphing into downright rudeness.
"OK." Click.
I gather the unwanted cans of Coke to exchange for the green tea and wait at the lobby. I receive a metaphorical kick in my metaphorical nuts as I watch a Nando's delivery guy walk past a security guard and enter the lift to deliver an order to some person who was fortunate enough to not get some tool who couldn't be arsed to look for the exact residence.
Same Delivery Guy arrives.
He hands me a small plastic bag. Too small to fit a 1.5 litre bottle.
I take the bag from him and peer in incredulously.
"I ordered the 1.5 litre bottle."
"The manager said to send green tea."
"Do you understand what the problem is?"
"If you have problem call the manager."
I take the 500ml bottle of tea, contemplate returning the unwanted cans of Coke and figure the assfucks are still overcharging me anyway so maybe I shouldn't return them. But I don't want the Cokes anyway, so I motion to return the cans to Same Delivery Guy.
He looks at me like I'm doing the most bizarre thing in the world.
That decides me. I realise he has zero comprehension of what's going on and has no desire to try. I keep the Cokes and walk off.
By the time I get back to my unit, the garlic bread is soggy and the pizza has gone cold. I call the significant other who's subjected to a stream of invectives. To sum things up without using a lot more profanity, here is a handy chart in unattractive but functional colours:
S/O suggests calling the manager again at first. I point out that by the time they resolve their fuckup (if at all) my pizza will be downright inedible. He agrees and concludes my best recourse-which-isn't-really-a-recourse is to calm the fuck down and forget about it.
I wash the still-sealed undersized bottle of green tea with dish detergent in case Pizza Store Staff decided to roll it around on unsanitary surfaces before delivering it to me. I consume what I can of the meal which unsurprisingly tastes like crap, because it's cold and soggy.
An episode of 24 later, my anger still hasn't abated because this is still in my line of sight:
The liquid injustice, it rends my soul:
So it occurs to me. Why can't I be angry? Customer service in this country is a joke most of the time. Why should I accept bad service when customers who shut up and forget about it are in effect telling these incompetent assfucks shitty service is ok?
I'm not livid over the measly RM3.00 overcharge. I'm livid over the appalling customer service I was subjected to.
Moral of the story: If you're ever on the receiving end of Bad Customer Service that might get worse, while being as polite as humanly possible assume the people you're dealing with have intellects of 5 year-olds and deal with them accordingly. It might save you time, money and the compulsion to write an overly long rant to catharsise the !rage that results from receiving bad customer service.
tl; dr:
FUCK YOU
CANADIAN PIZZA
You're half an hour late for our appointment? No problem. Stuff happens. I've been there.
Waiter messed up an order? I'm the one telling my dad (whose pet peeve is bad restaurant service) to calm down. At least complain after the food is served - because in Malaysia (or anywhere else for that matter, if Waiter Rant is anything to go by), they're certainly not beneath making creative alterations to your meal out of spite.
When I was a boutique retail assistant, I graciously attended to indecisive customers who got my undivided attention for up to an hour, even if it meant they needed that amount of time to go through half the clothes in the store only to decide to buy one item or none at all. It's their right and my job.
So really, I'm patient.
But I, like any other person, have my bad days too.
Some rare people, Mother Theresa for instance - have bottomless pools of patience that shine like eternal salvation.
I do not possess such limitless reserves.
It starts with a simple pizza order over the phone at 9.05 p.m., Feb 4.
I would have made the order online, except the link which proudly advertises an online ordering option doesn't work, and has not for the months it has been up. I even thought it might have been my Opera browser at first, because while I love it like circus monkeys travelling through a desert would love coconuts I am aware it has some compatibility issues. I tried Firefox and IE - the online registration link still did not work. Nevermind, making phone orders aren't that much more of a hassle. So I do.
(Dominos has a painless online ordering system btw, so kudos to them.)
The phone delivery customer service rep takes down my order for a regular pizza + garlic bread + 2 cans of Coke combo costing RM25.90. I tell him I want the RM3.00 upgrade to a 1.5 litre bottle of Pokka Green Tea, which means instead of the 2 cans of Coke (which I do not want because I detest regular Coke), my drinks will be replaced with said bottle of 1.5 litre Pokka Green Tea. Fabulous.
Customer service rep acknowledges the upgrade. Before he hangs up, I prompt him for the total (nevermind that it's unusual for him to not inform me of the total charge). I'm a nice customer and always try to give exact change or close to the delivery person (the delivery guy keeps the change; and yes, I'm the sort who tips if I'm happy with the service at a restaurant, even though we have a service tax billed into the total).
He tells me the total is RM30.20.
In my headache-addled mind (probably induced by sleep deprivation and stress), I choose to assume the total is correct. This is my first error in judgement.
I ready RM30.50, which is the closest amount I have to the quoted total.
At 9.54 p.m. (thank you cell phone records), the pizza store calls to inform me the delivery guy can't deliver right to my condominium unit. I have to go to the lobby to collect my order. While this strikes me as odd (this store has delivered to my doorstep before), I give them the benefit of the doubt and say fine, I'll head downstairs. Sometimes the security guards get a bit more vigilant than usual.
I take nothing but my keys and RM30.50. This is my second error in judgement.
22 floors later, I approach the delivery guy.
He hands me a cold wet plastic bag. I note that the garlic bread has been unceremoniously squashed with 2 cans of ice cold Coke, its previously warm, phallic-shaped mass reduced to a sorrily limp aluminium foil-wrapped lump. My razor sharp observation skills (not really, but they've been generously inspired by current episodes of 24, there should be a monument of Jack Bauer right next to the Statue of Liberty as far as I'm concerned) lead to the realisation that the defeated garlic bread isn't the main problem.
The 2 cans of Coke which I did not order prompt my vocal chords to remedy the situation.
Before I can enunciate my confusion, Delivery Guy hands me the pizza and receipt and looks at me expectantly for payment.
"I upgraded the drinks to the Pokka Green Tea option in my order. Where is the green tea?"
Delivery Guy looks inside the clearly empty motorcycle trunk and makes some rummaging motions, somehow hoping the arbitrary gesture will appease me.
"Green tea out of stock. Total RM33.35." I'm irked they didn't bother to call and inform me of this, but decide it's not worth getting worked up about.
"Ah. And that's strange, the guy on the phone said the total was RM30.20."
I'm slightly annoyed at myself for not double-checking the total, and for not bringing my wallet along in the rare event Guy On Phone mucked up the total and I had to pay extra.
I take the receipt from Delivery Guy and check it:
They still charged me for the RM3.00 upgrade to the non-existent green tea. I point that out to Delivery Guy.
"The total is inclusive of the delivery charge." Delivery Guy responds in a confident I-can't-believe-you-don't-understand-this tone.
"Really? Let me go get the extra RM3.00 then." I'm in no mood to argue, so I pay him the RM30.50 in hand and resign myself to a 22 floor round trip. In the time it takes me to get up via lift, grab my wallet and head back down, I study the receipt and realise I was right, they did charge me for the tea, and the correct charge without the tea is RM30.20. So Guy On Phone somehow quoted me the total without the tea, while consciously ringing up a total including the tea, yet the order arrived without the tea. Amazing.
I approach Delivery Guy, show him the receipt and explain to him in detail they've overcharged me. My politeness is for naught as he responds brusquely, "33.35. If you have a problem call the area manager."
My headache reminds me the displeasure of my blood vessels is increasing. I make my third error in judgement.
"Fine." I give him the RM3.00 I shouldn't be paying. "I'll just never order from you guys again."
"Call the area manager." Right. Because you can't be arsed to employ some basic listening and math skills to resolve the issue on the spot.
I march back to my condo unit. The significant other happens to be on MSN. I explain what happened.
"That's bull. Call the area manager and complain!"
"I'm doing that right now." I dial the delivery line and give Different Guy On Phone my order details and explain the situation. He apologises (good on him, wasn't even his fault) and says the manager will call me back.
At 10.02 p.m., a guy with a thick accent (possibly Bangladeshi or Pakistani) calls.
"Hello, we are sending the green tea now. Arriving in 5 minutes. Please go down to the guard house." I'm irritated by the lack of a basic apology, and further irritated they expect a lone female to take a lengthy walk down to the guard house when it's past 10.
"Could you get your delivery person to come up to the lobby instead?" I restrain my curt tone from morphing into downright rudeness.
"OK." Click.
I gather the unwanted cans of Coke to exchange for the green tea and wait at the lobby. I receive a metaphorical kick in my metaphorical nuts as I watch a Nando's delivery guy walk past a security guard and enter the lift to deliver an order to some person who was fortunate enough to not get some tool who couldn't be arsed to look for the exact residence.
Same Delivery Guy arrives.
He hands me a small plastic bag. Too small to fit a 1.5 litre bottle.
I take the bag from him and peer in incredulously.
"I ordered the 1.5 litre bottle."
"The manager said to send green tea."
"Do you understand what the problem is?"
"If you have problem call the manager."
I take the 500ml bottle of tea, contemplate returning the unwanted cans of Coke and figure the assfucks are still overcharging me anyway so maybe I shouldn't return them. But I don't want the Cokes anyway, so I motion to return the cans to Same Delivery Guy.
He looks at me like I'm doing the most bizarre thing in the world.
That decides me. I realise he has zero comprehension of what's going on and has no desire to try. I keep the Cokes and walk off.
By the time I get back to my unit, the garlic bread is soggy and the pizza has gone cold. I call the significant other who's subjected to a stream of invectives. To sum things up without using a lot more profanity, here is a handy chart in unattractive but functional colours:
S/O suggests calling the manager again at first. I point out that by the time they resolve their fuckup (if at all) my pizza will be downright inedible. He agrees and concludes my best recourse-which-isn't-really-a-recourse is to calm the fuck down and forget about it.
I wash the still-sealed undersized bottle of green tea with dish detergent in case Pizza Store Staff decided to roll it around on unsanitary surfaces before delivering it to me. I consume what I can of the meal which unsurprisingly tastes like crap, because it's cold and soggy.
An episode of 24 later, my anger still hasn't abated because this is still in my line of sight:
The liquid injustice, it rends my soul:
So it occurs to me. Why can't I be angry? Customer service in this country is a joke most of the time. Why should I accept bad service when customers who shut up and forget about it are in effect telling these incompetent assfucks shitty service is ok?
I'm not livid over the measly RM3.00 overcharge. I'm livid over the appalling customer service I was subjected to.
Moral of the story: If you're ever on the receiving end of Bad Customer Service that might get worse, while being as polite as humanly possible assume the people you're dealing with have intellects of 5 year-olds and deal with them accordingly. It might save you time, money and the compulsion to write an overly long rant to catharsise the !rage that results from receiving bad customer service.
tl; dr:
FUCK YOU
CANADIAN PIZZA