Olive Garden - Thanks for Nothing (literally)

 But Wait ... It Gets Much, Much Worse ... (or, how to use a "make-good" to destroy customer loyalty forever)

Here is the blog I posted immediately after a bad experience.  There is an update, which only makes things much worse.  So, if you have already read this, scroll down and read more. Otherwise, realize this is a disaster (for Olive Garden) in three acts ... but it's a great lesson on how to piss away three decades of solid customer loyalty in under two weeks - and, apparently, without even trying.

Sometimes small mistakes have big consequences.  Like "forgetting" the salad dressing for an anniversary dinner.

Today (as I write this) is my wedding anniversary.  Since Lynn was feeling a bit under the weather, we decided to get carry-out from Olive Garden.  They were having a salmon special that Lynn loves, so the choice was obvious.

I got the food - it's delivered to you at the bar - and usually the server unpacks the take-home bag, but this time she didn't. I notice this, but didn't take any action.  After all, Olive Garden had never let me down.

Got home with hot food and sat down for a wonderful anniversary dinner.  As we usually do, we ate the hot food first, while it was hot, but we were both looking forward to the salad, which we love.  It's our dessert!

Only this time there was a problem.  The good folks at Olive Garden had "forgot" the salad dressing.  How you do that, when there is a cut-out in the lid of the salad container for a cup of salad dressing is beyond me.

You know how a magic moment can be shattered by one otherwise small problem?  Well, that's what happened tonight.

So thank you, Olive Garden, for nothing.  For lacking the quality control to ensure such a simple-but-important mistake doesn't happen to people who are counting on you for a good dining experience.

Update

I just sent the following to Olive Garden, and I hope they choke on it.

Dear Olive Garden:

I want to congratulate you for destroying three decades of deep and consistent customer loyalty, and really sing your praises for the way you did this in less than two weeks, and did so without breaking a sweat. 

If you'd set out to drive me away, you couldn't have done a better job.  So good job, folks.

First, I had a bad experience on December 17. (note - I'll clip this here because you've read it in more detail above - basically, I just reminded them what happened).  

So I contacted Olive Garden via their website, and a few days later I got a call from a woman at the restaurant (Nellis Blvd., Las Vegas). She seemed to have a bit of an attitude, as if calling me was One More Thing she had to do to make her day complete; but, she asked what happened, so I told her.   Then, not very graciously, but she kept in check and I figured she might actually be having a Real Bad Day, so I cut her a bit of slack for attitude.  

Anyway, she said she'd send me a gift card.  That was nice, and for a brief moment I felt good about what they were doing to make good on a mistake that caused me a lot of unnecessary grief on my anniversary.  Then she blew it.  

What wasn't so nice - especially since she was trying to make up for a mistake and "win me back" as a loyal customer was the way she asked me very specifically what I'd ordered. It came across loud and clear that she was afraid that she might give me "too much."  

I didn't ask for a gift card, and I would have been happy with one at any value (i.e., a $20 Gift Card to make up for a $40 meal would have been OK).  But she had that "grasping" aura about her, as if this had to measure up.  I've got to tell you, that took the luster off the "make good."  Olive Garden had not "won back" my loyalty by her miserly attitude, but I figured it was all in a day's work (so to speak). I like the food and I suppose I'd be back despite her, so I let it go.

Then, everything started to fall apart all over again.  A week later I get an email.  It said that it's an e-gift card. Apparently, the corporate assumption was that Everyone On Earth gets their emails on their phone, so they could just flash it.  But I don't, so it was worthless to me.  I wasn't about to carry my desktop computer over to Olive Garden and hook it up to demonstrate that I'd gotten an e-Gift card, and I didn't feel much like printing it out (it ran to pages and pages) - plus, it occurred to me that a print-out might not be acceptable, since somebody could print out dozens of them. 

Instead of a "make-good" that was supposed to make me feel better, this kind of fumbling, bumbling "make-good" was really starting to annoy me.  So I called the store and got "Mike," the manager.

I explained what had happened and he remembered me - "the guy who didn't get his salad dressing."  I'm not sure if that meant he was bothered that his store had let me down, or if he thought I was a petty jerk.  But he seemed like a nice-enough guy, so I continued.

I asked him what I was supposed to do with an email e-Gift card.  He said, in effect, "just show it to us on your phone."  I explained that I don't get my email on my phone - he actually seemed shocked (apparently this is more common than I thought, though how people manage emails on phones is beyond me).   I have thousands of mostly-business emails archived on my computer, and I use both screens to read and answer them.

I got even more annoyed at this arrogant corporate assumption that all "real" customers get their emails on their phones, making me a second-class customer, but Mike seemed like he was trying to make things work out, so again I "let it slide" - they were making a hash out of what was supposed to make me feel better about Olive Garden, but Mike didn't make the policy, and you can't fight city hall.

He said he'd mail me a gift card.  I gave him my address and sat back, waiting to get it and imagining the "free" dinner Lynn and I could enjoy there. 

But the next day (today), Mike called me back.  He hadn't mailed the gift card.  Instead, he said he had to ask for the digital code on the email e-Gift card.  That made two assumptions. 

One, (again), that I get my email on my phone, so I could give it to him - and that's just Alice through the Looking Glass kind of thinking.  And ...

Two, that I'd saved the email, even after it had proved useless and a replacement was on the way.

What Mike was doing, clearly, was taking steps to make sure that I didn't use both the plastic gift card and the digital e-Gift card, thereby stealing from Olive Garden the retail price of two meals.  There can be no other reason why he wanted that digital code.  

He couldn't have said any clearer that he (and, by extension) Olive Garden, didn't trust me and really didn't care that I knew they didn't trust me.

That kind of "respect" destroyed the last vestiges of goodwill and loyalty.  I told him so and hung up. 

Make-goods are supposed to make an injured customer feel better about the company that "wronged" them, not feel like a suspected thief.  

This may sound petty, but I went into detail for a reason.  I work every day with clients who are paying LOTS of money trying to win customer loyalty.  Every time Olive Garden runs an ad, they are trying to both attract new customers and - much more often - trying to remind customers to be "loyal" and come back by.  Yet so often, this is undermined by:

a.  Ill-advised corporate policies (I have little doubt that Mike was trying to follow a corporate policy when he asked for that code); and,

b.  Poorly-trained (or motivated) employees like the first one with the attitude problem, or Mike - who should have known how his request for the digital code would be taken.

It takes major investments in marketing to attract new customers and win back old customers. It takes almost nothing to destroy that loyalty and make mockery of their advertising and marketing investments.
 
That's the lesson for the readers.  For Olive Garden, the message is a bit more simple:  I give up.  But I will tell my friends.  Count on it. 

Arby's - when is 9:54 pm really 10 pm?

When is 9:54 pm. really 10 p.m.?

When I drive up to your drive through, clearly ahead of the 10 pm closing, and I'm told by the staff that you're closed.  The staff was standing in the parking lot smoking.  My watch and car clock, both set to satellite time and therefore accurate, said it was before closing. Your well-lit store and prominent street sign said you were open.  Everything said you were open - except for your staff, apparently eager for an early closing and a quick cigarette.

Did I mention that they were clearly far more annoyed with me for disturbing their early break than they were courteous to me?

Did I mention that this was the third time I'd come by before closing, only to be told that you were closed?

Three strikes and you're out applies equally to baseball and burgers - or in this case, to sandwich shops.

You spend millions in advertising to attract customers, but it only takes a few lazy crew members and a manager who turns a blind eye on early closing to lose customers you already have.   But don't worry.  I'll be sure to tell everyone I know (via this blog) ...it's the least I can do to repay your staff's courtesy and attention to service.

ADDED NOTE:  I got an email from Arby's after I used their online form to file the complaint you just read.  It was nice that they sent me a note. Not swift that they thanked me for my input instead of expressing concern that I'd had a bad experience - perhaps then suggesting that they'd get to the bottom of this for me.  But then ... showing that they REALLY DO NOT HAVE A CLUE when it comes to customer service, they posted a harsh and aggressive confidentiality notice on the bottom of the world's most innocuous "customer service email" ... really swift there, guys.

Here it is - we report, you decide ...



Dear Arby's Guest,

Thank you for the feedback you shared with us regarding your recent experience at one of our restaurants.

At Arby's, your point of view and your experience matter to us.

Sincerely,

Arby's Guest Support

Notice: This e-mail message and its attachments are the property of Arby's or one of its subsidiaries and may contain confidential or legally privileged information intended solely for the use of the addressee(s). If you are not an intended recipient, then any use, copying or distribution of this message or its attachments is strictly prohibited. If you received this message in error, please notify the sender and delete this message entirely from your system.

PS - nobody can send you an unsolicited email with any expectation of privacy - so not only is this strategically stupid, it's also legally indefensible.  

I'm just saying ... go to Arby's at your own risk, knowing how deeply the staff and corporate management care for your comfort and convenience.

Take Chili's Restaurant - Please ...

Picture five adults, having attended a beautiful and moving Easter Eve church service - filled with love, joy and happiness - heading to our neighborhood Chili's to top the evening with good food, well-served, in a pleasant atmosphere.

Now picture that bus plunging off the bridge and being dashed on the rocks down below.

Finally, picture the company adding insult to injury with their inept "online customer service" operation.

Get the picture?

Here's the story - and here's why you certainly do NOT want to repeat our mistake.  Take Chili's off your list of places to go to enjoy good food and good service. Ain't gonna happen.

We arrived at 8:30, well after the crowd had left.  There were many tables vacant (unbussed) and it took three people ten minutes of desultory "cleaning" to get the table cleaned and set up.  Clue Number One:  "sudden service" was not on the menu.

We were told that three waitresses would take care of our needs.  Clue Number Two:  that meant each one of them assumed the other two were taking care of us.

After we ordered our food, we got our soft drinks - drank them - then waited, and waited, and waited ... finally, I had to ask another waitress to tell our waitress we needed drinks. So two of them came, then all three of them again forgot all about us.

After entirely too long with no food and not much to drink (even in the Spring, Las Vegas has a very dry climate, and people get thirsty easily), I asked to see the manager.  The greeter paged him.  Five minutes of standing there later, the greeter took it upon himself to go hunting down the manager, who'd ignored the page.

He was a big, blustery man, and came charging out of the back with the bitt in his teeth - it took him a bit to calm down (didn't know if he was mad at me, or just entirely too emotional).  Told him what the problem was, and he said he'd "go check it out and get right back to me."  I didn't want to know what was wrong - I wanted it fixed.  But later I'd wish that he'd even done that much.

Still we waited. Finally diner for four arrived.  There were five of us, but only four dinners arrived.  Of these, one was a salad, one was just about right, one was barely tolerable, and one was so cold it had to be sent back to be reheated.  Clearly, that food had been waiting for us to demand that it be produced.  However, the fifth dinner (fajitas, which have to be served sizzling) didn't come for another five minutes - clearly, they hadn't started them until the other food had been delivered.

When the fajitas came, they were not served with a plate (if you've never had them, they bring you a hot skillet with sizzling meat, onions and pepper strips, a "tortilla" dish (with lid to keep them fresh) and a plate on which to assemble the fajitas.  No plate.  I had to use the lid from the tortilla dish (I could have asked for a real plate, but I was half-past starved by this time).

Finally, we waited forever it seemed for more drinks, and our check.  Still, no manager with his explanation.  So once again, I asked the host to chase the guy down.  Now I could tell he was really exasperated with me - the "tell" was his overpowering condescending attitude.  I reminded him that he said he'd "get back to me" and he brushed that off, literally, like an annoying fly. Then he told me that he'd taken something off the bill (I knew that to be a lie - I already had the bill in-hand).  We waited another ten minutes until the waitress got around to producing a second bill, with the least expensive item - the salad, the only thing that wasn't done wrong) taken off the bill. 

That made it all better.

Back home, I went to the Chili's website to post a complaint. 

HINT TO COMPANIES WITH COMPLAINT FORMS ONLINE:  Do NOT limit the size of the complaint to 1,000 characters (that's like nine tweets).  I did what I could to lay it out in 1000 characters, getting even more annoyed as I did so.  Finally I got it all in there.

And waited.

And waited.

Then I got an email asking me for the name of the server, the name of the manager and the receipt number.  Uh, yeah. I've got that.

Finally, after several more exchanges that made me SO much happier, they sent me an apologetic-sounding form letter (as if such impersonal messages could be "apologetic" - I mean, how much added effort would it take to address my specific experiences?) telling me they would send me gift coupons or some such.

It arrived today.  Not an apology at all, but a "thank you" for "sharing your comments" and "providing feedback."  Plus, a carefully-metered out set of two $10 gift certificates and one $5 gift certificate.  Five adults had their evening ruined. The cheapest entree was comped.  Then we get $25 - not as a make-good, but as a "thank you."

If you choose to eat at Chili's, do so at your own risk.  What was once a decent operation has become a total disaster, unable to serve food hot or on time, and even worse, unable to handle a legitimate customer complaint in a way that makes the customer feel better about the experience.

You've been warned.  Stay away from Chili's ...