Andi....
....
....
To Amy Turner
Panera Bread of Iowa
1241 Park Place NE Suite C
Cedar Rapids, IA 52402
Dear Amy Turner,
I am a struggling college student who is delighted to say that the Panera Bread restaurant is one of the few restaurants my meager bucks are always worth spending on. I love your fresh breads and the clean atmosphere of your stores. Every Panera Bread location I have been to in Wisconsin (my home town) has had an excellent family environment.
The incident I am about to share is not meant to trace back to any on individual. I am merely sharing a recommendation to improve the services of the Panera Bread corporation.
Last week, I was with my family at a Panera location, when I purchased a bagel and cappuccino for a light dinner. Not a big deal. Cinnamon bagel was delicious, by the way. But it was a little ridiculous when I shelled out my college bucks for a $1.69 bagel and was then told that I had to buy my own cream cheese.
Please understand that a bagel without cream cheese is a violation of my taste buds entirely.
Obviously, I needed cream cheese. But, more ridiculous yet, the cheapest plain cream cheese available at this Panera location was $1.25. I didn’t have an extra quarter to add to my last dollar bill, so I paid with debit. I paid for cream cheese with a debit card. Either I knew I had reached a really low point or I knew that the price for the smidgen of cream cheese I wanted was ridiculous.
I understand that the cream cheese container offered was larger than most cream cheese containers, but would it break the budge to ask for smaller cream cheese containers that are included in the price of the bagel? Would you not say that it is misleading to sell someone fries but make them pay additionally for ketchup?
For the complete satisfaction of your supporting families, cream cheese should be included without charge and without question in the purchase of bagels. I beg of you, please do not Scrooge-it-up like the rest of those corporations!
Thank you for your time and consideration on this small, but important matter.
Sincerely,
Andi....
Showing posts with label good customer service. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good customer service. Show all posts
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Fit for a King
All right. Since I delivered that hate speech for Best Buy in my last entry, I want to renew your faith in humanity by sharing my delightful Burger King experience with you.
Just kidding. No, actually I do want to talk about the great customer I received at Burger King, but it gets more interesting than just ‘I liked’ or ‘I hated’ the service.
On a whim as my stomach was growling today, I realized it had been years since I had had a Jumbo Burger at Burger King and I got a sudden penchant for one.
“Let’s go to Burger King,” I suggested to my brother.
“You’re treating?”
“Absolutely! It’s Burger King - how expensive can it be?”
After I argued with Jon that going through the drive-through was fruitless and would take too long, I convinced my brother to park his little white car, and I put all of my shopping purchases in the trunk (since I considered the Burger King to be “junky”).
Once inside, memories of being a young child and looking up at the HUGE Jumbo Burger signs came flowing back to me. At about 4 ft. tall, the dewy lettuce on the burger looked positively life-like, and the juicy tomato seemed to be nigh unto slipping off the burger and falling atop me. The Burger King I used to go to also had a train that was attached to the top of the wall and the train would “chug-chug-choo-choo” around the entire restaurant. That was really cool. Mind you, it was even cooler, because my parents would rarely let us go out to fast-food because my Mom was (and is) what you call “a good southern, home-cook”. We had home-style meals. Back then, I thought it was a curse from God. Now I can see it was actually a good thing.
So as I ordered, the woman at the cash register was helping someone else out by getting them a cold coffee drink. She winked, “This here’s really good stuff. I made it fresh this morning and it’s better than the other cold coffee across the street. It tastes like chocolate milk and it’s so creamy; I love it.” She then poured it out of a clear pitcher for the lady and I could practically hear the cream as it swished into the glass.
What I loved about the homely woman behind the counter was the fact that she was talking to us like she had known us forever. She was giving her honest opinion, and one could tell just by the skip in her step that she was happy, determined, and full of life. I liked her. She wasn’t over-doing it and she wasn’t annoying. She just WAS. She seemed happy with herself and she could find humor and delight in little things.
As I got my own ‘cold Jo coffee’ (I couldn‘t resist it), whopper jr, etc. and found my seat, I looked around me and noticed that almost everybody in the store was old. They were all chomping on their burgers with their gums and looking around through bifocals. Strangely, I found it comforting. Too many young people my age these days are annoying to be around. I am one young person who will admit for my generation that we tend to be self-focused, we have lost sight of what the work-ethic is (in other words, we want money for doing nothing), and we are very impressionable when it comes to pier pressure. Most people my age hate old people. But I like them. They’re cute. And sometimes they’re really interesting when they start telling stories and stuff. Growing up my parents drilled into me, “respect your elders!”, and I’d say that’s a pretty good policy to have. How shallow is it, anyways, to look down on someone just because they happen to have lived longer than me? So for that reason, I don’t understand a lot of people my age. After all, how would I feel if a little 13 year old came up to me and said, “Screw you!”? I’d get up in that little kids face and ask him where his parents are PRETTY fast.
ANYWAYS, I’m enjoying getting off subject, lol. Jonny’s chicken fries looked really pathetic so I offered to get him a couple more burgers (you know how it is with fast food), and went up and ordered them. As the lady charged me a whopping $2.11, I told her frankly (not gushingly at all), “You know, you have really good customer service.”
Her face got just like mine has gotten when I’ve been told that before. “Oh, really?” She seemed so encouraged and she said matter-of-factly, “The guy two guys back wouldn’t have said that.”
“Well, some people are idiots,” I said staunchly, and then suddenly noticing that there were a couple of guys beside me still waiting for their food. Oops.
An older black man with fine little white curls of hair and good sized glasses was standing behind me in line, and said, “Well, I wouldn’t say it, either.”
I could tell he was joking and turned to him and said, “Shame on you!”
He clarified, “I was going to say, you have SUPER customer-service!”
I laughed and so did she as she got his order. As I stood there waiting for order ‘179’, I heard the black guy to my right make a joke about something being like Brett Favre leaving the Packers. I thought his joke didn’t make any sense and so I thought, ‘obviously the guy doesn’t know much about football’.
He saw the way I looked and said to me, “You don’t watch football, do you?” It wasn’t a question. It was like he KNEW.
I shrugged. “Actually, the only team I’ll watch is the Packers, but since Favre is gone now, I don’t know if I want to watch them.”
He had a loud voice and guffawed, “Aww - you can’t do that! No, no, no.” He pulled up his sweatshirt so I could see his ‘Lakers’ fanny pack and insisted, “You gotta pick a team and stick with them! I’ve been with the Los Angeles Lakers for 17 years straight now.”
I was interested in the conversation now, and looked at him, surprised by this strangers absolute calm and good-natured-ness. “So, what do you think about Favre leaving the Packers and going to the Jets?”
“I think,” he said emphatically, his words all ready chosen, “I think that it doesn’t matter whether Favre is with the Packers. He’s maybe not chosen the best way of leaving, but the Packers are still worth watching.”
“But,” I said, quoting something I had once heard, “Think about how the Packers were doing before Brett Favre came along. To me, Packers is Brett Favre, and Favre is Packers.” My brother had a good joke that on the Packers timeline, it would have to read “BF” AND “AF” (“Before Favre” and “After Favre”). I was going to insert this joke, but he charged ahead passionately.
“Where was Brett Favre when Vince Lombardi was running the team?”
“Training,” I guessed decisively.
He repeated his question and I said the same thing and then knew I must be wrong.
“You still don’t have the right answer.“ He scoffed, “You don’t know football, do you?”
“I only admitted to watching an occasional game. All right. I confess! I am a sentimental fan!”
“Well, at least you confess to it, that’s something,” he laughed. I got my order then and called, “Thank you!”
He waved, “Have a good weekend.”
“Y’too!” I said laughingly, and Jon and I trucked out of the old Burger King. I heaved myself into the car and laughed to myself.
“Why are you laughing?” Jon asked.
“I just like that Burger King. Why has it taken us so long to discover that place? It was virtual gold mine of good-natured people!”
Honestly? The whoppers weren’t that great. It was the atmosphere that made it.
Just kidding. No, actually I do want to talk about the great customer I received at Burger King, but it gets more interesting than just ‘I liked’ or ‘I hated’ the service.
On a whim as my stomach was growling today, I realized it had been years since I had had a Jumbo Burger at Burger King and I got a sudden penchant for one.
“Let’s go to Burger King,” I suggested to my brother.
“You’re treating?”
“Absolutely! It’s Burger King - how expensive can it be?”
After I argued with Jon that going through the drive-through was fruitless and would take too long, I convinced my brother to park his little white car, and I put all of my shopping purchases in the trunk (since I considered the Burger King to be “junky”).
Once inside, memories of being a young child and looking up at the HUGE Jumbo Burger signs came flowing back to me. At about 4 ft. tall, the dewy lettuce on the burger looked positively life-like, and the juicy tomato seemed to be nigh unto slipping off the burger and falling atop me. The Burger King I used to go to also had a train that was attached to the top of the wall and the train would “chug-chug-choo-choo” around the entire restaurant. That was really cool. Mind you, it was even cooler, because my parents would rarely let us go out to fast-food because my Mom was (and is) what you call “a good southern, home-cook”. We had home-style meals. Back then, I thought it was a curse from God. Now I can see it was actually a good thing.
So as I ordered, the woman at the cash register was helping someone else out by getting them a cold coffee drink. She winked, “This here’s really good stuff. I made it fresh this morning and it’s better than the other cold coffee across the street. It tastes like chocolate milk and it’s so creamy; I love it.” She then poured it out of a clear pitcher for the lady and I could practically hear the cream as it swished into the glass.
What I loved about the homely woman behind the counter was the fact that she was talking to us like she had known us forever. She was giving her honest opinion, and one could tell just by the skip in her step that she was happy, determined, and full of life. I liked her. She wasn’t over-doing it and she wasn’t annoying. She just WAS. She seemed happy with herself and she could find humor and delight in little things.
As I got my own ‘cold Jo coffee’ (I couldn‘t resist it), whopper jr, etc. and found my seat, I looked around me and noticed that almost everybody in the store was old. They were all chomping on their burgers with their gums and looking around through bifocals. Strangely, I found it comforting. Too many young people my age these days are annoying to be around. I am one young person who will admit for my generation that we tend to be self-focused, we have lost sight of what the work-ethic is (in other words, we want money for doing nothing), and we are very impressionable when it comes to pier pressure. Most people my age hate old people. But I like them. They’re cute. And sometimes they’re really interesting when they start telling stories and stuff. Growing up my parents drilled into me, “respect your elders!”, and I’d say that’s a pretty good policy to have. How shallow is it, anyways, to look down on someone just because they happen to have lived longer than me? So for that reason, I don’t understand a lot of people my age. After all, how would I feel if a little 13 year old came up to me and said, “Screw you!”? I’d get up in that little kids face and ask him where his parents are PRETTY fast.
ANYWAYS, I’m enjoying getting off subject, lol. Jonny’s chicken fries looked really pathetic so I offered to get him a couple more burgers (you know how it is with fast food), and went up and ordered them. As the lady charged me a whopping $2.11, I told her frankly (not gushingly at all), “You know, you have really good customer service.”
Her face got just like mine has gotten when I’ve been told that before. “Oh, really?” She seemed so encouraged and she said matter-of-factly, “The guy two guys back wouldn’t have said that.”
“Well, some people are idiots,” I said staunchly, and then suddenly noticing that there were a couple of guys beside me still waiting for their food. Oops.
An older black man with fine little white curls of hair and good sized glasses was standing behind me in line, and said, “Well, I wouldn’t say it, either.”
I could tell he was joking and turned to him and said, “Shame on you!”
He clarified, “I was going to say, you have SUPER customer-service!”
I laughed and so did she as she got his order. As I stood there waiting for order ‘179’, I heard the black guy to my right make a joke about something being like Brett Favre leaving the Packers. I thought his joke didn’t make any sense and so I thought, ‘obviously the guy doesn’t know much about football’.
He saw the way I looked and said to me, “You don’t watch football, do you?” It wasn’t a question. It was like he KNEW.
I shrugged. “Actually, the only team I’ll watch is the Packers, but since Favre is gone now, I don’t know if I want to watch them.”
He had a loud voice and guffawed, “Aww - you can’t do that! No, no, no.” He pulled up his sweatshirt so I could see his ‘Lakers’ fanny pack and insisted, “You gotta pick a team and stick with them! I’ve been with the Los Angeles Lakers for 17 years straight now.”
I was interested in the conversation now, and looked at him, surprised by this strangers absolute calm and good-natured-ness. “So, what do you think about Favre leaving the Packers and going to the Jets?”
“I think,” he said emphatically, his words all ready chosen, “I think that it doesn’t matter whether Favre is with the Packers. He’s maybe not chosen the best way of leaving, but the Packers are still worth watching.”
“But,” I said, quoting something I had once heard, “Think about how the Packers were doing before Brett Favre came along. To me, Packers is Brett Favre, and Favre is Packers.” My brother had a good joke that on the Packers timeline, it would have to read “BF” AND “AF” (“Before Favre” and “After Favre”). I was going to insert this joke, but he charged ahead passionately.
“Where was Brett Favre when Vince Lombardi was running the team?”
“Training,” I guessed decisively.
He repeated his question and I said the same thing and then knew I must be wrong.
“You still don’t have the right answer.“ He scoffed, “You don’t know football, do you?”
“I only admitted to watching an occasional game. All right. I confess! I am a sentimental fan!”
“Well, at least you confess to it, that’s something,” he laughed. I got my order then and called, “Thank you!”
He waved, “Have a good weekend.”
“Y’too!” I said laughingly, and Jon and I trucked out of the old Burger King. I heaved myself into the car and laughed to myself.
“Why are you laughing?” Jon asked.
“I just like that Burger King. Why has it taken us so long to discover that place? It was virtual gold mine of good-natured people!”
Honestly? The whoppers weren’t that great. It was the atmosphere that made it.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Brilliant Tuesday Concepts
Right now I am sitting at my computer, glaring holes into the screen. My brother is watching a loud film (where someone with amnesia is constantly having loud 'flashbacks') and rustling bags of 'sugar-free' candy. About 5 minutes ago he happened to look over at his dormant little sister and made a face. "Why are there Q-tips sticking out of your ears?" See, that's the thing about men that I've learned. They see the surface problem and think 'uh, how wierd'. But they don't understand that what they see is just a symptom of the real problem. In fact, I can't concentrate on writing this blog while all of his noise is echoing about. So I am muting out that noise, while also cleaning out my ears. It serves a dual purpose, that on first glance, most men would not pick up on.
Earlier this afternoon, I was lounging blissfully in my lazyboy, meditating on school, when a rather profound concept hit me. What people know the most about, they want to talk the most about. Simple enough, but often forgotten. Really, if one gets this concept down, one is helped immensely when trying to understand people. Think about it. Why else do so many people love to talk about themselves at first opportunity? Why does someone knowledgeable about nutrition tend to sneak a nutritional fact into every meal-time? Why do writers love to go to writers conferences and talk to other writers about their writing? I told this to the woman from which I off-springed from and she said, "So what do you like to talk about?"
I had to think about that. Hmm. I replied, "I guess I like to talk about everything. I have alot of interests in alot of things. I like to hear what alot of people have to say. I like to soak up as much knowledge as possible."
"So does that mean you know it all?" My mother's brow furrowed. "Andria, you need to watch how you come across."
I laughed with delight. People pleasure in accusing me of being a know-it-all, but I've found that I'm most often accused only when I insert an opinion that didn't promote their own knowledge. Hah, see it's all in how you look at it. I don't feel a need to defend myself. I'm pleased that I don't really know it all, because that leaves me room for learning more brilliant things in this old life I am presently subjected to.
Another thing I realized starkly tonight, is that I really appreciate good customer service. There is such a thing as a 'friendly atmosphere'. I've walked into some department stores, and I feel immediately like the employees there are telling me with their eyes, "Leave. Make my job easier and leeeeave." Tonight I experienced such at the TJ Max department store. Some kids about my age were wearing little TJ Max shirts and were putting clothes on racks at the rate of molasses. When I went to the fitting room, accusing glittery eyes flitted over me and a terse voice said, "Put the clothes on the rack." The girl then counted the clothes, and I felt instantly like I was being searched for some indescrepancy. When there was no indescrepancy found she handed me a number briskly and then went back to sitting in her roller chair and staring at her long fingernails. I was like 'okay?', but said 'Thank you' politely. She grunted. I felt like grunting back, but refrained. I just didn't get it. She could have at least pretended to be nice. I felt like I was in an environment that did not want me, the customer, to enjoy liesurely bargain shopping. It was TJ Max's good fortune that I found something half-way agreeable and decided to purchase it. I walked to the counter and the boss of the employed TJ Max children smiled at me somewhat like an obliging school-marm. "What can I do for you?" she asked crisply, and I felt it was pretty obvious that I was in line because I wanted to purchase something. I put some pants on the counter and still could not shake this feeling that I was a bother at that counter. It was so wierd. It wasn't until I donated a dollar to 'autism' that she actually smiled at me and seemed sincere in helping me. Walking into places like that, I am just so thankful for fun places like PotBelly and Grace's where I can have fun doing work and can actually delight in seeing customers walk into my restaurants. But maybe it's all different at clothing stores. I suppose no regulars go to Kohls to get clothes every morning before they head off to work. That's why I love food stores. I remember as a child when I would stay home 'sick' from kindergarten. My mom would read Berenstein bears books to me, I would watch 'Whinnie the Pooh', and then if macaroni and cheese wasn't on the menu, my mother would take me out to McDonalds for lunch. That was extremely exciting for me, and my mother warned that I shouldn't tell my brother or he would get jealous. Of course, I waited a few days, and then got mad at my brother for something and told him in anticipation of that jealousy. La, such a wicked child. But even in all that wickedness, I found pure unadultrated delight in getting a simple chicken mcnuggets, fries, and coke. Food is exciting; temperal, but then again - all pleasure is. That decides it. My place is among food.
What brilliance I stumble on while I am writing to you! What would I do without words, people, food, Q-tips and the ability to love...
Earlier this afternoon, I was lounging blissfully in my lazyboy, meditating on school, when a rather profound concept hit me. What people know the most about, they want to talk the most about. Simple enough, but often forgotten. Really, if one gets this concept down, one is helped immensely when trying to understand people. Think about it. Why else do so many people love to talk about themselves at first opportunity? Why does someone knowledgeable about nutrition tend to sneak a nutritional fact into every meal-time? Why do writers love to go to writers conferences and talk to other writers about their writing? I told this to the woman from which I off-springed from and she said, "So what do you like to talk about?"
I had to think about that. Hmm. I replied, "I guess I like to talk about everything. I have alot of interests in alot of things. I like to hear what alot of people have to say. I like to soak up as much knowledge as possible."
"So does that mean you know it all?" My mother's brow furrowed. "Andria, you need to watch how you come across."
I laughed with delight. People pleasure in accusing me of being a know-it-all, but I've found that I'm most often accused only when I insert an opinion that didn't promote their own knowledge. Hah, see it's all in how you look at it. I don't feel a need to defend myself. I'm pleased that I don't really know it all, because that leaves me room for learning more brilliant things in this old life I am presently subjected to.
Another thing I realized starkly tonight, is that I really appreciate good customer service. There is such a thing as a 'friendly atmosphere'. I've walked into some department stores, and I feel immediately like the employees there are telling me with their eyes, "Leave. Make my job easier and leeeeave." Tonight I experienced such at the TJ Max department store. Some kids about my age were wearing little TJ Max shirts and were putting clothes on racks at the rate of molasses. When I went to the fitting room, accusing glittery eyes flitted over me and a terse voice said, "Put the clothes on the rack." The girl then counted the clothes, and I felt instantly like I was being searched for some indescrepancy. When there was no indescrepancy found she handed me a number briskly and then went back to sitting in her roller chair and staring at her long fingernails. I was like 'okay?', but said 'Thank you' politely. She grunted. I felt like grunting back, but refrained. I just didn't get it. She could have at least pretended to be nice. I felt like I was in an environment that did not want me, the customer, to enjoy liesurely bargain shopping. It was TJ Max's good fortune that I found something half-way agreeable and decided to purchase it. I walked to the counter and the boss of the employed TJ Max children smiled at me somewhat like an obliging school-marm. "What can I do for you?" she asked crisply, and I felt it was pretty obvious that I was in line because I wanted to purchase something. I put some pants on the counter and still could not shake this feeling that I was a bother at that counter. It was so wierd. It wasn't until I donated a dollar to 'autism' that she actually smiled at me and seemed sincere in helping me. Walking into places like that, I am just so thankful for fun places like PotBelly and Grace's where I can have fun doing work and can actually delight in seeing customers walk into my restaurants. But maybe it's all different at clothing stores. I suppose no regulars go to Kohls to get clothes every morning before they head off to work. That's why I love food stores. I remember as a child when I would stay home 'sick' from kindergarten. My mom would read Berenstein bears books to me, I would watch 'Whinnie the Pooh', and then if macaroni and cheese wasn't on the menu, my mother would take me out to McDonalds for lunch. That was extremely exciting for me, and my mother warned that I shouldn't tell my brother or he would get jealous. Of course, I waited a few days, and then got mad at my brother for something and told him in anticipation of that jealousy. La, such a wicked child. But even in all that wickedness, I found pure unadultrated delight in getting a simple chicken mcnuggets, fries, and coke. Food is exciting; temperal, but then again - all pleasure is. That decides it. My place is among food.
What brilliance I stumble on while I am writing to you! What would I do without words, people, food, Q-tips and the ability to love...
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