Apparently I already reviewed this store, but I wrote the review so I'm doing it again!! Also, why…read moredo I keep going back? Glutton for punishment? Who knows? Maybe I can work that out with my therapist.
Me: "Doctor, the people at Culver's just don't seem to care about me very much."
Therapist: "It's not just the people at Culver's..."
So, I placed an online order for curbside pickup: two double ButterBurger meals and two custards. I pulled into the curbside area, checked in, and waited.
To the store's credit, my order came out quickly!
Well...it came out of the door quickly.
Actually getting it from the door to my car turned out to be a considerably more ambitious undertaking.
The team member entrusted with this perilous journey emerged from the restaurant carrying my food and began making his way toward me with all the enthusiasm of a 40-year-old man heading to that doctor's appointment. Guys over 40 know the one.
I watched as he approached, slow shuffling step after slow shuffling step, each one bringing him incrementally closer to his destination. Minutes seemed to pass. Seasons may have changed. Civilizations rose and fell. Still, he pressed onward.
When he finally drew within about 10 feet of my car, I greeted him with an enthusiastic, "Hey, how are you?"
Nothing.
Apparently, the journey had already taken a terrible toll on his constitution, leaving him without sufficient reserves for conversation. But he would not be deterred. He soldiered bravely onward, closing those final few feet until, at last, he reached my window.
Pheidippides ran from Marathon to Athens to announce the Greek victory and promptly died from the effort. Watching this young man cross the Culver's parking lot, I began to understand how that could happen.
At last, our hero extended a bag containing my burgers and now-cold fries, along with a drink carrier containing two custards, a lemonade, and approximately 3/4 of a Diet Root Beer.
This raises a separate question: Culver's, why is your root beer so incredibly foamy? More importantly, since I assume this phenomenon has been observed before, why not wait five seconds for the foam to settle and then fill the cup the rest of the way? I ordered a medium Diet Root Beer, not a small Diet Root Beer with a decorative foam hat.
But I digress.
His mission complete, our weary traveler bade me farewell with a mumbled, "Here you go."
And then he turned.
Before him stretched the vast expanse of asphalt he had only moments earlier conquered. Somewhere beyond the horizon stood Culver's. Home. Safety. Maybe a chair.
And so his return trek began.
A modern-day Odysseus, condemned to wander the parking lot in search of Ithaca. I can only assume that somewhere between my car and the front door he encountered a Cyclops, resisted the Sirens, and angered Poseidon, because I didn't have another 20 minutes to stick around and see whether he made it.
Maybe Christopher Nolan will make a movie about it.
In all seriousness, the food itself was fine except for the fries being cold, and the order was prepared quickly. The problem was the service. The employee who brought it out was extraordinarily slow, completely disengaged, ignored a friendly greeting, and acted as though delivering my order was an almost unbearable imposition.
I'm not expecting someone to sprint across the parking lot, sing the Culver's fight song, or greet me with the enthusiasm of a cruise director. But a normal walking pace, a "hello," and the faintest indication that you don't actively resent both your job and the person whose food you're delivering seems like a reasonable baseline for customer service.
TL;DR: The kitchen did its job. The curbside employee appeared to have a serious case of the Mondays. I believe you'd get your [synonym for donkey] kicked for saying something like that. The fries were cold, the root beer was 25% atmosphere, and I witnessed a journey worthy of Homer.
Two stars for the experience.
Five stars for the epic.
Yes, I Googled the spelling of Pheidippides! That guy had to have a heck of a time endorsing checks.
