As a frequent diner at your restaurant, I was quite pleased when my mother-in-law presented me with a Chili’s gift card this Christmas. I enjoy bringing in my son and niece for dinner as we usually have a fun and pleasant dining experience. So I decided to head out this evening with the boy and my step-daughter here from New Mexico. Thank whatever omniscient being you worship that Gordon Ramsay wasn’t in for fajitas tonight…
Our server, Ashley – please note that I only know her name because it was printed on the top of my check, certainly not from any of the unintelligible things she may have mumbled during one of her few brief visits to our table – could be a little speedier, or maybe your kitchen was really slammed. At any rate, we ordered at 6:40, received appetizers at 7:15 and entrees at around 7:30. Could you do something to help me convince my son that it really takes that long to radioactivate a corn dog and put a piece of corn on a plate? I managed to choke down the cold mashed potatoes that came with my meal, as I feared that the rapture may have occurred while waiting for a replacement, had I even been given the opportunity to request one. Against my better judgment we ordered dessert – since we always have the Molten Chocolate Cake anyway, besides, how long could that take? If you guessed about another fifteen minutes, you would be five minutes short. Try twenty – I could churn my own ice cream faster than that.
The best part is that this is the only time I have ever eaten at this Chili’s that one of the roving managers did not come by my table to ask how our meal was going. Are they trained to intentionally avoid the pissed off looking guests or was this the fates continuing to conspire against my gastronomical enjoyment? Just think, you probably wouldn’t even be reading this now had that occurred. Get back to cracking that whip bro, the serfs are obviously lacking the proper motivation.
Best Regards,
(name withheld)