I've used Goya products much of my life. Recently, I had surgery on my esophagus and I'm on a…read moreno-chew diet for a stretch. I thought tamales might be a neat option, so I picked up some Goya frozen grated yucca. The package has neither preparation information nor cooking info. My first batch wasted the $10 package (and left me without dinner). I spent much of the following day searching the web in ernest (I'd done a cursory search the night before) and found NOTHING. I did finally find a number, the story follows.
I called, it picked up, I heard noise, but no voice, before I could say anything I was disconnected. I don't give up that easily, I called back.
"Hello?"
Me: Hello, I'm calling a number I found on the Goya site?
"Yes, this is the receptionist." Not, hello, Goya, can I help you? Not Goya International? Just Hello?
I explained why I was calling and she interrupted me [rude] and said, "I'll transfer you."
The transferred call gets picked up by another woman. I begin to explain my situation, again she talks over me and I'm transferred again. About this time, I was wondering if I might perhaps want to dust off getting ticked off.
Third lady picks up, she's the white lady. I can tell because she sounds very southern Kentucky. I explain my situation [in between her interruptions of "okay," "yes"; seriously, she sounded like the woman in the trailer park office in No Country For Old Men]
My situation is, again, I bought their product and it has no cooking instructions, no preparation instructions. She says, "Can I have your name, please?"
Me: Certainly. [give her my name which she both misspells and mispronounces. I mean, it's two syllables, but I let it go.]
"Can I have a contact phone number?" Now, I'm smirking as I give my number adding, "so long as you promise not to call me at an inappropriate time."
"What is the product name?"
Me: Frozen grated yucca.
"What?"
Me: Frozen grated yucca, or cassava.
"Okay. Is that uka U - K - A?"
You're GOYA Foods.
Me: No, Y - U - C - C- A.
"Okay. Do you have the UPC code?"
Me: Give me a minute, I'll get it.
I grab the thawed product from the fridge, the package is actually slimy. I read her the code, she reads it back to me.
"Can you give me the Lot number and Best Used By date?"
Me: Hang on, I need to get a light. Okay, I see information in ink that doesn't say lot number, but here's the number, and the expiration is [give date, don't feel like looking it up for the story]
"And the store where it was purchased?"
Remember, I'm asking how to cook it or prep it because there are no instructions on the package. The slimy package.
Me: Hannaford Brothers. [This has to be repeated three times, at which point I'm VERY close to saying, "You DID hear me when I said I just had esophageal surgery, no? Do you ask Stephen Hawking to repeat himself just for kicks, too?" but I don't.
"And the city and state where the store is located?"
I provide it, twice, spelling out E-X-E-T-E-R the second time.
"And your mailing address?"
That was my breaking point.
Me: Can I ask why? I've given you literally everything except my bank account number and all I'm asking is how to cook the product because there is no information on the package. [by this point she's been cross-talking over me, the hoarse guy who just had surgery, since the word "cook"]
Me: You know what, let me make this easy. I will NEVER use your products again and I will go OUT OF MY WAY to tell EVERYONE not to. Thank you, Goya. You're a disgrace.
Customer service is woeful, not to mention not including preparation instructions on the package. I'll find another vendor. I recommend you do, too.
