Allow me to preface this by saying that I am a huge slut that will be back to your establishment regardless, so there is no need to drown me with coupons and other crap in a petty attempt to justify the horrors I am about to detail. Please, save us both the trouble.
Now, where to start...
It was a warm fall evening. Humid. Unseasonably hot. And I was hungry. So I decided in my crippling depression to take advantage of my well compensated position and abuse my disposable income to enjoy a Santa Fe skillet with tortillas from Denny's at 3 AM after a long day.
Walking into Denny's Restaurant #6955 I was promptly and courteously...ignored by the staff for several minutes until a young woman came up and asked if I was there for a to-go order. I informed her that I was, in fact, seeking a table for one. Although I did not verbalize how sad and pathetic that is, I could see it in her face, and her disgust was apparent "You here to eat in? Okay..."
Once seated she took my drink order and that was the last time anything would go right.
I ordered a Santa Fe skillet with tortillas. The skillet came out hot and delicious. But where were my tortillas, I wondered? No matter arguing it or pointing it out, I am accustomed to neglect and incompetence in modern America. Besides, the skillet itself was delicious.
"He bring you your tortillas?" The waitress that seated me asked. "No," I replied shortly. Within a few minutes a slender gentleman loomed over from the wall separating the tables from the kitchen area. "HERE YA GO," he boomed in what sounded like a Forrest Gump impression. "Thank you," I replied, accepting my pounded flour treat.
Reaching into the tortillas I was nearly scalded by the sopping wet mess that greeted my fingers. Somehow these tortillas had matched the climate outside. Accepting defeat, I smashed what remained of my skillet into two of them and ate in stunned, dejected silence.
Once all was said and done and I had finally, after an extended delay, received and paid my bill, I started my trek home and thought to myself "I no longer believe in the American dream".
And I don't mean any of this as a joke, comical though it may seem. Every step in this story, every sentence I have penned, is absolutely and entirely true. Because it dawned on me that despite Denny's vast resources, despite this being one restaurant of hundreds, maybe thousands, based on the number, there was absolutely nothing to indicate that it would ever improve.
No one asked me if everything was okay. No manager was apparent. No system or processes evident to record the inaccuracies and errors in service for future rectification. Instead this was normal operating procedure. Incompetence, inaccuracy, poor service, and negligence are acceptable standards at Denny's Restaurant #6955.
And this is how it is all over.
I used to believe in the American dream. I used to believe in meritorious promotions and self-improvement and that the system 'worked' in the sense of correcting the aforementioned issues via the free market. But that's not the case.
No, what will happen is I will likely receive a brief apology, if I am lucky, and maybe some manager may have it brought to their attention, and then in a few weeks I'll return. I'll return to order my chicken tenders and pray they're not under-cooked and infect me with salmonella. I'll return to order a Diet Coke and instead receive a Dr. Pepper. I'll return and myself or my companions will have something go wrong. And at the end of it all we will pay, and tip our customary 20%+, and nothing will change. Because this is how it is.
So just short of 30 years on this planet I have been forced to confront the crushing reality that the American dream is a lie. It isn't what you know, it's who you know. All because of your Santa Fe skillet and tortillas.
It wasn't the service at 3:00 AM EST at a Denny's that broke it. It's the knowledge that absolutely nothing will be done, and it won't matter. read more