The experience at this restaurant was the worst experience I've ever had at fast food. To say that it was disappointing would be an insult to subpar experiences in general. Everything started simply enough. The drive through was ten cars deep, but this was a Friday night. The wife and I opted for going in because we hoped service would be faster. How very wrong we were... There were about eight people hovering around the front of the restaurant, while another eight were sitting at tables.
A warning sign was that only a few of the eight people at tables actually had food. I mentioned to my wife that I "didn't have a good feeling about this." She shrugged it off and, to my chagrin, continued on to the computer kiosk. While she pondered her order, I scanned the looks of waiting customers. Each had a desolation in their eyes, as though something at this fast food location had gone terribly wrong. Several were wearing "Dragon Ball Z" Burger King crowns. One elderly fellow was wearing two.
To my alarm, once our $15 dollar meal was ordered, no recipient printed out (though one was requested). I registered slight concern, but my lovely wife assured me we wouldn't need a receipt. Looking around at the fellow customers and starting to see the forlorned staff, something told me this was a receipt kind of night at The King.
We took some seats towards the back of the restaurant; we would have plenty of time for our turn at the front.
No food came out.
Outside the window, drive through customers that had paid were lined up five deep, still waiting for food.
I looked over at the staff, and many were staring at the order wall like the chimps starting at the monolith at the beginning of 2001 a Space Odyssey. I could tell that they yearned for answers that just weren't coming. They seemed to be begging for the board to give these answers, but its indifferent glow had none.
One employee looked upon the empty fryers as though she had never seen them before. She picked up an empty basket and set it back in the oil.
One of the staff members, perhaps a senior staff member, ran out from behind the counter and tapped a young man on the shoulder, begging for help. His compatriot at the table insisted it wasn't their shift. Regardless, this stout and strapping fellow heralded the call of his on-the-clock coworker. Rushing to what looked like an ice cream machine, he picked up a large bag of white goop and, as his manager looked on, poured it into the machine. There was no handwashing at any point; he simply went from sitting at a table to pouring in liquid. Sometimes, life at the King gets dirty.
Soon after, I noticed one large bag of food being served. The customer grabbed it greedily, clutching it to her chest like a mother would hold her baby as she waded through dangerous flood waters; the rest of us looked at her with a mixture of jealousy and disgust. She was fed. God help the rest of us.
At this point, my Whopper crazed but patient wife had almost had enough. It had been over forty minutes. We saw one come through. I did the math as I looked at the crowd. We would not taste beef here tonight.
The rest of the events came quickly.
The manager who had enlisted the help of an off-duty employ locked herself in the unisex - very progressive! - bathroom. She was gone.
The remaining employees were still huddled around and staring up at the order screen.
One man stepped to the front of the line, and asked for his money back. The cashier asked him to produce a receipt. He could not, as the machine was broken. The employee tried to change the receipt paper. He could not do so. He left the paper and joined his fellow employees to stare at the screen. We were truly and honestly f'd.
After reciting his order like a shamanic mantra, the man at the counter got his money back. What black magic conquered his $20 dollars? We must know...
My wife follow suit. The cashier apologies profusely, but struggled to process the refund, as we too had been left without a receipt. He said there was a new system that had confused the employees. But no one was making fries or burgers. They had simply lost hope. These people had been crushed under the weight of not just a King, but a tyrant. The siren song of the order board's glow shined on, but had no answers to give.
Of the $15 dollars spent, the cashier ended up coming up with $11. A gift horse and all, my wife and I made our exit.
In the parking lot, I talked to a young man who simply abandoned his order and his money. Looking a bit sad, he lamented that he would need to eat at Taco Bell, but he doesn't even like Taco Bell. I suppose we all know that pain.
This disaster is a symptom of poor training or management or both. I'd like to say an employee rose from the flame-broiled ashes like a greasy phoenix to save us, but there were no heroes this day.
$4 is a small price to pay for a very valuable lesson; I will never eat here again. Probably. read more