Customer Service, Fire, & Mashed Potatoes

I found myself dining alone tonight. And since I’m pretty much an introvert and since I enjoy my own company more than I enjoy anyone else’s, I was a bit pleased by the prospect. Until I started trying to figure out what to eat. . . Jason’s normally my chef, but he’s off enjoying an Iron Maiden concert with my brother. Sometimes I can turn to Claudia or Isabella to pick something up, but Claudia’s in College Station and Isabella’s at Brew & Bake with her friends. And I’m hungry NOW.

Ahhhhhh. . . Lake Jackson has Waitr now! I’m saved. I quickly checked the app and perused my options. I don’t really see that LJ has a lot of vegan options to offer, and while I’m not really vegan, my animal welfare friends have inspired me to aspire for a vegetable-forward diet, so I quickly narrowed down my search to the chicken fried steak from Asiel’s. In my defense, it comes with a side of mashed potatoes (with gravy of course) and a second side of my choice (I choose fried okra because it’s a theme). Wow. That was easy. So I light a candle because I always light candles when I dine alone, open a can of Karbach Love Street, and turn on my U-verse Stingray music to Alt. Rock Classics and listen to Pearl Jam and The Vapors while I wait for my meal to arrive. I’m really excited about the mashed potatoes. Potatoes are my favorite food. . . mashed, scalloped, baked, fried. . . I really don’t care. I love them. Jason and I were just talking about mashed potatoes last night, so my hankering for some good mashers is strong. In fact, I’m so excited that I repeatedly go to my front door to peep through the peephole to see if my Waitr driver is here yet. Even though the side windows in my living room give a clear view of all incoming traffic, I still anxiously peer through the peephole. . . chanting to myself “hurry up. hurry up. hurry up.”

Finally, he arrives. My glorious food is in a very large brown shopping bag with handles. I set the bag on the table and peer in at my meal. It’s on a black plastic tray with a clear lid, so I immediately grasp the gravity of the situation. There. Are. No. Mashed. Potatoes. In. The. Bag. None. And. That. Means. Not. Any.

Sigh. Look again. Sigh. No mashed potatoes. They’re still not there. Then, a blaze. In my distress over the lack of mashed potatoes, I set the very large brown shopping bag with handles down on top of my candle! It’s fully ablaze and the flames are almost lapping my ceiling. Good-NESS. That’s a large fire on my table. I grab the only tiny corner of the bag that’s not flaming with my bare hand and rush to the door and fling it outside. Crap. The wind is blowing. And is that a propane tank right there? Ummmmmm. Yes. It is. Fortunately, we store a crap ton of stuff on our carport (sorry neighbors who have to look at it), and there’s a metal dustpan and some BBQ tongs nearby. I grab the tongs and move the flaming bag away from the propane and begin smashing it with the metal dustpan. Chunks of flaming bag are blowing toward the neighbor’s house (I hope you’re not reading this Pinky and Kathleen, but if you are, don’t worry, I had control of the situation the whole time), so I’m chasing the flying flames around with a giant metal dustpan trying to extinguish them as they land. Thank God, after a few minutes of crazed movement, the coast is clear, the fire is extinguished, and I can go in and enjoy my chicken fried steak and fried okra sans mashed potatoes. (Insert sad face emoji here please because there are still no mashed potatoes on the plate).

I’m a little hangry now. . . and I’ve had to deal with a few situations today, so I deserved those mashed potatoes. I’m still a little miffed about a bad review someone gave us on Facebook (yeah, really, can you believe some people?!), so I’m a little sensitive to the social media blasting that some people feel inclined to do, so I consider my options:

I can eat my food that arrived and stay grouchy and never order Waitr or eat at Asiel’s again. But that mostly punishes me, right?

I can eat my food and blast Waitr and Asiel’s all over social media and give them a bad review and fester in my hate and loneliness and hangryness. But then people probably won’t like me because nobody likes a hater, right?

Or, I can call Asiel’s. . . and see if they can fix the problem, right?

So that’s the option I go for. . .and it was actually really easy. My Waitr app had the phone number right there, and I just touched it on my iPhone and the next thing I knew, a lovely young woman was on the phone with me. She didn’t have to put me on hold, she didn’t have to call a manager, she didn’t have to make excuses. . . right then andNoMashedPotatoes there she  apologized for the oversight, and then she said some wonderfully magical words, “would you like me to call Waitr and have them send the potatoes over right away?”

“uhhhhhh. . . yes. . . that would be fantastic.”

So now I gotta go, the dogs are barking and I just heard a car door slam. It’s the nice young man from Waitr here. He’s holding a smaller brown bag with handles. Inside the bag is a serving of glorious mashed potatoes and a side of cream gravy.

I’ll try not to set the bag on fire this time.

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