A few entries back I chronicaled my issues with Dairy Queen. Today I am ready to lay down my pen (fingers?) of justice.
The particular owner of that Dairy Queen wrote me, what I feel, is a heartfelt letter with an apology. It explained everything. She was gracious and kind about it all. I feel like today in a technical age people tend to lose sight of the fact that their customers make their world go around. I feel like the woman that wrote me the letter has not lost site of that at all.
I wanted to thank her for listening to my problem, doing her research and doing something about it.
Okay, so today's entry is obviously not about hair. This is another lesson on how you do not treat a customer.
My hubs and I were watching a movie last night. Before we started the second one, I had a hankering for a Strawberry and Golden Oreo Blizzard from Dairy Queen last night.
We drive to DQ and get in the drive through line to place our order. My husband orders his chocolate concoction of a blizzard first. He is in the middle of ordering mine when he is cut off by a loud aggrivated voice from the drive through speaker box. "Chocolate xtreme blizzard large...that all?" Jeff and I giggle, because obviously he was in the middle of ordering something else. "Uh no...can I also get a large strawberry and golden oreo blizzard with extra golden oreos and a chicken basket?" she repeats our order to us LEAVING OUT MY PRECIOUS EXTRA GOLDEN OREOS. Jeff repeats extra Oreos one more time before we drive up to the window.
I hope no one is surprised at this point that my beloved blizzard does not have extra Oreos in it. She then tells us to pull around the side to a black door where our chicken basket will be delivered. We then drive around to a BLUE door and wait.
While we are waiting a random girl gets out of an SUV. She doesn't have on shoes, she has on socks. She knocks on the blue door and someone lets her in. A minute later she is yanking crates and thing out of the door. Helping the employee with the trash.
I look my husband dead in the eye and say "If that girl with no shoes on, in a tank top and booty shorts delivers my chicken basket to me, I am never coming back to DQ.
Do I even need to say what happened? I do? Okay.
The girl with no shoes on, in a tank top and booty shorts delivers my chicken basket to me. WHO IS THIS WOMAN!?
I am irritated, annoyed, and bothered by DQ. I will not be going back. Baskin Robbins may not have Golden Oreo Blizzards, but I have never seen anyone without a uniform behind the counter!