I love a good customer service confrontation as much as the next person--probably more. But I've had two in recent days that have just been bizarre.
Matt and I went to Dairy Queen this week, and I ordered one of their new mini Blizzards. They're the perfect size--just enough ice cream, but still way too many calories. I ordered a banana split Blizzard, my personal favorite, and the cashier (who resembled a 16-year-old Shaun White) started into a diatribe that was apparently intended to convince me to order something else.
Mr. White: "Are you sure? That Blizzard comes out really runny. Like Blizzard soup."
Me: "That's okay."
Mr. White: "I mean, are you really sure? It tastes like ass."
Me: (Slightly more baffled) "Yes, I'm sure."
Mr. White: "Seriously. It's disgusting."
Me: (Totally confused. Can they not make it, or does he just not want to?). "But this is what I want."
Mr. White: "Fine. Our pain is your pleasure, I guess."
The fact that he just didn't want to make my mini banana split Blizzard was confirmed when the Blizzard-making employee behind him let out an audible groan when he saw my order (to which Mr. White replied, "Sorry, dude. I tried to talk her out of it.").
Had I realized what was happening sooner, I would have enjoyed one of my now-infamous confrontations with a cashier. But because the situation was so bizarre, I had to resign myself to contacting Dairy Queen when I got home. Just a few days later, the owner of that particular Dairy Queen franchise called me at home. She knew the employee just from my description of the incident, and she wanted to apologize. Her husband also used the opportunity to perform a little market research on the mini Blizzard, but that's beside the point. The three of us had a lovely conversation about the immaturity of teenage boys, and she even sent me a few coupons.
Later this week, a call from Sears woke me up far too early. They were calling to confirm my order and asked that I call them back to set up a time for delivery. They used my name in the message and obviously called my number--but I never ordered anything from Sears.
So I called the toll-free number left in the message, imagining some poor person out there not getting his or her washer, dryer, refrigerator...who knows? The woman on the phone took my name, telephone number and zip code. She said, "I'm finding no deliveries with your name to your zip code. I promise, nothing will be delivered to you." I tried to tell her that I was more concerned about the poor person who wasn't going to get this order, to which she replied, "I'm finding no deliveries with your name to your zip code. I promise, nothing will be delivered to you." Because that seemed to be the only phrase they taught her at the Indian call center, I had to let it go. Stay tuned for an anticipated post about where to store the sub-zero refrigerator I never ordered.
7 comments:
If you make that blizzard correctly, it is not runny. ;) Boo on those boys!
I had no idea they make mini blizzards! Woo-hoo!
He claimed it's runny because of all the syrups. Ridiculous.
A mini is still about 6-7 Points, Anna. Equally ridiculous.
Definitely. I worked at a DQ for four years. I make a killer banana split blizzard. ;)
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I've only had good experiences lately, which are great but not fun stories to tell. I will, in your honor, write to their bosses to tell them, though!
LOL! Do you read David Segal's Haggler column in the New York Times. I turn to the financial pages every Sunday looking for it.
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