how the cheesecake factory ruined my life.

22 Jun

So I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s absolutely nothing in the whole entire world that is shittier than a fucked up takeout order. Because you know what? If you get injured you can heal. If you get lost you can find a gas station or use your iPhone. If your flight gets delayed you can buy an extra magazine. If you break up with your boyfriend there are like a million other fish in the sea who are probably far better suited for you anyway and don’t have bad breath all the time.

But if you get home and there is no dressing for your salad and your chicken is overcooked and it’s 11pm and you’re so so so exhausted and starving to death because all you ate the whole day was 1/4 of a melted kids size strawberry banana Tropical Smoothie, you’re like 100% shit out of luck. And all the thoughts swimming through your head of drenching your lettuce in that awesome creamy ranch dressing is squandered and you want to cry but you can’t because you’re too hungry and don’t have the energy to produce the tears. And then your husband rolls his eyes at you because you’re sitting with the phone on your ear while you’re having dinner together trying to talk to a manager to make them understand just how frustrated and inconvenienced you truly are and you throw something at him, only you miss because your aim got thrown off with the phone distracting you and you stain your Ethan Allen chairs that you won’t let your stepkid sit on because he’ll make them messy.

This scenario (perhaps slightly less exaggerated when it actually happened) occurred in my home last night.


I caps locked and bolded because I’m not going to be cruel like all the other assholes and write a bad Yelp review about Cheesecake based on one or two or fifteen shitty takeout experiences, but I’m taking a stand in Shelbytown! Fuckin’ Cheesecake Factory ruined my night, possibly even the rest of my week and/or life! HOW DO YOU LEAVE THE BACON OFF A BLT SALAD? Please, somebody tell me how. Oh wait. It doesn’t matter. Because it wasn’t there and I wasn’t going back and when I called to get it taken off our charge, I got put on hold for 15 minutes while the manager (TIM) “ran to the office” (aka hung out with the servers shooting the shit about shift drama) and then finally another manager picked up the phone saying “Hi how can I help you?” and finally took care of my assholic situation.

I didn’t sleep all night. It was horrible. The missing bacon left this void that just kept me up biting my nails until the sun came up.

We do a lot of takeout at the restaurant, and when people call that something is fucked up and they’re all pissed off, I am always sympathetic because out of 10 times a month that we order from Cheesecake Factory, the order is wrong at least 75% of the time. And out of that 75%, Harry’s is perfect and mine sucks 100%. (Also it’s usually when I’m getting my period, which is so convenient because I can order a 3500 calorie slab of chocolate but terrible for the manager on duty because he’s gotta deal with some cranky hungry screaming bitch on the other end trying to get her money back but also make them learn that consistency MATTERS.) Unfortunately sympathy doesn’t make meat less well done or a missing side of mac and cheese appear in a customer’s bag. I’ve taken the following approaches to rectify disappointed guests: home delivery, free dessert, gift certificates, letting the customer personally fire the guilty server who wrapped up the order. I don’t fuck around with takeout.

Because I NEVER want to have to deal with a bitch like me.


One Response to “how the cheesecake factory ruined my life.”

  1. Terrie :) June 26, 2012 at 11:22 pm #

    Shelby- I love you! You are fucking hilarious. And being a former waitress & lover of food (Also a lover of jobs being done properly- fuck yeah!) I totally hate when this happens. I mean- just check the fucking order before it leaves! Give them extra dressing- so they don’t run out and when it sits in their fridge they fantasize about the next time they’re going to get the BLT salad with the yummy ranch dressing that never ran out. -fin

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