Dining Out

It' not a fancy place, just the local P-Hut, but I was tired after a long week of getting the classes into place, figuring out the logistics, and trying to solve the copy issues as I live 60 miles from the campus copy machine, but my class is 1/2 there, which makes me go too far out of my way ... it's an issue that needs resolution, but not tonight.

I called my friend whose dog I'm keeping this week and asked her if she'd meet me for a quick dinner, and she was happy to do so, suggesting the P-Hut down the block from my house. We've made this same bad decision before, but we always think that this time, the service will be better than last time, but so far, it's worse.

We both ordered water and we both got water; however, getting silverware was another story. We both wanted salad bar, but I wanted wings, too, and after waiting for the server to return to our table so I could order them, I finally found silverware off another table and began eating my "make your own" salad while we waited, and waited, and waited for our server to return to the table and take the order. I counted 4 employees in the restaurant, one cooking, one guarding the take-out order desk, one who appeared to be a manager, and our server. There were 6 patrons in the restaurant, so it seemed, on the surface, that service should not be an issue this time.

When she finally came by the table to ask if she could take our order, I ordered 10 chicken wings to go with my water and salad. I finished the water and the salad and still no sign of the chicken wings. Our server swooped by and crashed plates to the floor, bouncing one off my hand, accompanied by a "Whoops." Still no wings. A group of 3 came in and occupied the table next to us, and they got water and their order taken, but still no wings.

Finally, the wings came. Well, that would be 5 wings and 6 jelly-bean sized fried drops of whatever. I said to the server, "Uh, what is this? I ordered a 10-piece chicken wing appetizer."

She replied, "Yes, there is one extra, but you won't be charged for it."

"What?????" sayeth I. "The problem is that there are 5 wings in this order, not 10, and I'm not sure what these little chunks of fried batter are."

"Well," she responds, "I didn't cook them!" and turned to walk away.

I picked up the plate, marched over to the counter and directed someone to find me the cook. When he turned toward me, I asked him what the hell this was on my plate. Of course, he told me it was my 10-piece wing order, and that simply was not going to be an acceptable response no matter who gave it. I directed him to call his manager, who was standing right there next to him, mute, and asked her how she was going to make this order right.

She suggested that the cook could prepare a new order, to which I said, "I don't have all night to wait for it. How 'bout I take these and you charge me for 5 wings, which is exactly what is on this plate, and you can have back the little bits of fried whatever."

She agreed because I think she knew that this conversation was not going to end well if she chose any other option.

My friend and I finished eating, stacked our plates, put our money on the table, and then waited and waited and waited for the server to come with our bill. She took a small plate of something to the table next to us, scooted back over to the counter and drew one glass of soda and delivered it to the same table, and then strode over to check out the salad bar. I had already suggested to my friend that we just walk out the door to see if that would get someone's attention, but she did the "Bring us our bill NOW" thing in her teacher's voice and sent our server scurrying.

I left a dollar tip on the table, paid the bill, and when the manager asked the gratuitous question, "How was everything," I responded, "Are you serious?" She ignored me, handed me my change, and we left.

As we backed out of the parking space to head for home, my friend said, "That went well," and we both laughed.

"Yeah," I said, "isn't that the definition of insanity: going to P-Hut knowing we'll have the worst service possible and still expecting good service this time?"

And, she replied, as she always does, "Well, it's not too bad if they have a different server," but we ALWAYS get the same girl! The only difference this time is that she's dyed her hair black, probably because she got tired of the dumb blonde jokes.

I vote for not returning to P-Hut as it just isn't worth the aggravation, but I'm sure that next time, we'll have a different server or this one will have learned how to do the job for which she was hired.