I hope you had a nice weekend.
I pretty much did, with one incident kind of putting a fork in the weekend for me, but more about that later.
It has been pretty warm in these parts—not like it has been in other parts of the country, but hot enough for me, with every day in the mid 80s to mid 90s—so this weekend, we did what you do on hot summer days, we barbecue and we swim.
We did not do the barbecuing, but my brother-in-law did, so we went to his house and had a pretty relaxing afternoon and early evening.
The food was good, the company was good, and although I was really tired after a previous night where my mother was up just about all evening, I stuck it out and had a good time—
Helped by the fact that I took a nap before we left, which was nothing but a short snooze after my sister took my mother for the remainder of the weekend, but it did help.
I was bushed by the time that we went back home in early evening, but I made it through the day pretty well, kind of on fumes by the time we returned back home.
And then yesterday, before my mother arrived home from my sister’s house, my wife and I were able to go swimming in the backyard pool, something we have been able to do this summer with a bit of regularity.
After last year’s complete fiasco with the pool—where we could not get the green out of it no matter what we did and how much money we pumped into it—this year has been much better—not perfect, but much better.
Changing over to salt water, the pool is much cleaner, and the upkeep is much easier.
Again, I am not going to say that the pool is perfect, but it is as clean as it is going to be, which means clean enough so we can use the pool as a big bathtub outdoors, no scrubbing but we are able to sit in it and take in the rays—with sunscreen, of course.
The incident that I referred to before that was the only negative of this past weekend was another situation at the local Wendy’s drive-thru, the most incompetent spot on the planet, or at least in my neighborhood.
I went to get food for us on Sunday evening, and my wife and son wanted Wendy’s, so there I went.
I got to the drive-thru, placed my order, and I thought everything, for once, was going to be hunky dory.
The woman manning the drive-thru told me how much the order cost, and I got out my money, plus as exact change as I could do with the coins I had in the car.
I went to the window, and that is where the “fun” began, as it always does at this particular site.
The assistant manager—or who I think was the assistant manager—read off what I ordered as I prepared to give them my money—with as exact change as I could give them with the change I had in the car.
He read off the order, and the woman taking my order had left out one order of chicken nuggets, so although I was ready to give my money to the cashier, I had to recalibrate a little bit now that the order was corrected.
The woman who originally took my order took my money—I gave her $40 in two $20 bills plus 50 cents in change for an order of $34.49—and that should have been that.
But then the cashier gave me back my change, and only gave me the coins—and to many of them—and not the paper money that I was due to get back.
“Where is my full change?” I asked, and there was no answer. “Where is my money?”
No answer, and then I admittedly got a little angrier, but for good reason.
“You know, every time I come here there is a problem with the order, a problem with the change, and why do I have to go through this every time I come here?”
Another woman working there came to the window, and flat out asked me, “Why do you come here anyway?”
“Because I live near here,” I replied.
“You should go somewhere else!” she chided me, which really infuriated me, because that is very bad customer service.
I still did not have my money, and the manager came to the window.
“Look, every time you come here you are nasty … you have to work with us,” she told me. “Did you get your order yet? Once you get your order, you will get your money.”
“But why was I just given the change? Where is my money? I would not be so nasty in your words, if I would have gotten what I wanted, and then I could already be home.”
The manager walked away from the window nd the restaurant proceeded to take their time in bringing me not just my order, but my paper change … and they were making comments inside the restaurant about me, very nasty in nature, which I replied to from my car, until they shut the window on me so I couldn’t hear anything … and during all this time, a line had built up behind me of at least 10 cars, so their taking their time bringing me my order was only creating problems for them once I left—
But I wasn’t ready to go, as they still had not brought me my order or my change.
Finally, after about 10 minutes, they brought everything out to me, including my change.
The manager greeted me at the window.
“You don’t have to report us each and every time you come here.”
(I have filled out the online form about their service on numerous occasions because they have forced me to do this because of their lack of service.)
“Well, I would not have to fill out that form if your staff wasn’t so inept.”
“Here is what we are going to do for now on—when you drive up to the window, you ask for me, the manager, to take your order. Do not give your order to anyone else but me.”
“Sounds good to me, and I will do that … and I am not going to report the restaurant today for what happened.”
She then apologized for the worker who told me to go to another restaurant, which I thanked her for, and I guess now we are on some sort of truce—but don’t tell me that I am the only one to report them for their inept behavior—those reports do get to the higher ups, and I do see new workers in the restaurant each time I come there.
So, the solitude of a nice summer weekend was brought down by this one incident … but I kind of brushed it off, listed it as complete and total incompetence on their part, and simply cherished the time I had at the barbecue and in the pool as making this a good and relatively relaxing weekend for myself and my family.
Now, the work week begins, and everything resets with my mother back home and me on the spot for seemingly everything.
Tally-ho, and away we go!
It has been pretty warm in these parts—not like it has been in other parts of the country, but hot enough for me, with every day in the mid 80s to mid 90s—so this weekend, we did what you do on hot summer days, we barbecue and we swim.
We did not do the barbecuing, but my brother-in-law did, so we went to his house and had a pretty relaxing afternoon and early evening.
The food was good, the company was good, and although I was really tired after a previous night where my mother was up just about all evening, I stuck it out and had a good time—
Helped by the fact that I took a nap before we left, which was nothing but a short snooze after my sister took my mother for the remainder of the weekend, but it did help.
I was bushed by the time that we went back home in early evening, but I made it through the day pretty well, kind of on fumes by the time we returned back home.
And then yesterday, before my mother arrived home from my sister’s house, my wife and I were able to go swimming in the backyard pool, something we have been able to do this summer with a bit of regularity.
After last year’s complete fiasco with the pool—where we could not get the green out of it no matter what we did and how much money we pumped into it—this year has been much better—not perfect, but much better.
Changing over to salt water, the pool is much cleaner, and the upkeep is much easier.
Again, I am not going to say that the pool is perfect, but it is as clean as it is going to be, which means clean enough so we can use the pool as a big bathtub outdoors, no scrubbing but we are able to sit in it and take in the rays—with sunscreen, of course.
The incident that I referred to before that was the only negative of this past weekend was another situation at the local Wendy’s drive-thru, the most incompetent spot on the planet, or at least in my neighborhood.
I went to get food for us on Sunday evening, and my wife and son wanted Wendy’s, so there I went.
I got to the drive-thru, placed my order, and I thought everything, for once, was going to be hunky dory.
The woman manning the drive-thru told me how much the order cost, and I got out my money, plus as exact change as I could do with the coins I had in the car.
I went to the window, and that is where the “fun” began, as it always does at this particular site.
The assistant manager—or who I think was the assistant manager—read off what I ordered as I prepared to give them my money—with as exact change as I could give them with the change I had in the car.
He read off the order, and the woman taking my order had left out one order of chicken nuggets, so although I was ready to give my money to the cashier, I had to recalibrate a little bit now that the order was corrected.
The woman who originally took my order took my money—I gave her $40 in two $20 bills plus 50 cents in change for an order of $34.49—and that should have been that.
But then the cashier gave me back my change, and only gave me the coins—and to many of them—and not the paper money that I was due to get back.
“Where is my full change?” I asked, and there was no answer. “Where is my money?”
No answer, and then I admittedly got a little angrier, but for good reason.
“You know, every time I come here there is a problem with the order, a problem with the change, and why do I have to go through this every time I come here?”
Another woman working there came to the window, and flat out asked me, “Why do you come here anyway?”
“Because I live near here,” I replied.
“You should go somewhere else!” she chided me, which really infuriated me, because that is very bad customer service.
I still did not have my money, and the manager came to the window.
“Look, every time you come here you are nasty … you have to work with us,” she told me. “Did you get your order yet? Once you get your order, you will get your money.”
“But why was I just given the change? Where is my money? I would not be so nasty in your words, if I would have gotten what I wanted, and then I could already be home.”
The manager walked away from the window nd the restaurant proceeded to take their time in bringing me not just my order, but my paper change … and they were making comments inside the restaurant about me, very nasty in nature, which I replied to from my car, until they shut the window on me so I couldn’t hear anything … and during all this time, a line had built up behind me of at least 10 cars, so their taking their time bringing me my order was only creating problems for them once I left—
But I wasn’t ready to go, as they still had not brought me my order or my change.
Finally, after about 10 minutes, they brought everything out to me, including my change.
The manager greeted me at the window.
“You don’t have to report us each and every time you come here.”
(I have filled out the online form about their service on numerous occasions because they have forced me to do this because of their lack of service.)
“Well, I would not have to fill out that form if your staff wasn’t so inept.”
“Here is what we are going to do for now on—when you drive up to the window, you ask for me, the manager, to take your order. Do not give your order to anyone else but me.”
“Sounds good to me, and I will do that … and I am not going to report the restaurant today for what happened.”
She then apologized for the worker who told me to go to another restaurant, which I thanked her for, and I guess now we are on some sort of truce—but don’t tell me that I am the only one to report them for their inept behavior—those reports do get to the higher ups, and I do see new workers in the restaurant each time I come there.
So, the solitude of a nice summer weekend was brought down by this one incident … but I kind of brushed it off, listed it as complete and total incompetence on their part, and simply cherished the time I had at the barbecue and in the pool as making this a good and relatively relaxing weekend for myself and my family.
Now, the work week begins, and everything resets with my mother back home and me on the spot for seemingly everything.
Tally-ho, and away we go!
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