Dibble's rant... or not. You decide...
Poll: Dibble's rant... or not. You decide...
Total Members Polled: 174
Discussion
Well after a couple of years' of just slightly less than average service, here's the letter I sent off today to the boss of the supermarket chain concerned:
a slightly miffed Dibble said:
It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter to you. I have been a customer of your supermarkets for many years now, and was practically (although not exclusively) raised on your supermarkets' sausages as a child. They are still one of the first things I would choose to eat when returning home from a trip away.
I have been visiting your store at Any Street, Anytown, for some time now, and have used the restaurant there on numerous occasions. The food served is generally of a very high standard, and is sold at reasonable prices. However, almost every visit has been marred by some slight niggle, which has made each visit less enjoyable than it should have been.
I have lost count of the number of times I have had to ask staff for cutlery or napkins as the trays at the counter were empty. It seems beyond the capabilities of the staff to be able to deliver just one mug, rather than two cups, with a large pot of tea, even when asked to do so at the time of ordering. In fact, to steal a line from Victoria Wood, it often seems as though the counter staff are moving underwater. I often wonder whether they are actually checking the recipe for toast, because it is a miraculous occasion if the toast ever arrives at the same time as the rest of my full English breakfast, and on those rare occasions it does, it usually arrives without butter…
I have often stood at the till, waiting to be served, in full view of two or three members of staff behind the counter, and felt as though I am being ignored. It was obvious to me that these staff were busy preparing orders for other customers, but a simple acknowledgment of my presence, together with “I’ll be with you in a minute”, would have made my heart sing with joy. I cannot claim that the staff have not seen me, as I have the physique of Pavarotti, although sadly, not the voice.
Were I to visit the restaurant at times when it is busy, then I could perhaps forgive some of these transgressions. Unfortunately, I almost always visit on weekdays in the middle of the morning, when there are maybe between six to ten other customers present. The counter staff still seem to take umbrage that customers are interrupting their heady social whirl, and spoiling the ebb and flow of their riveting personal conversations.
The straw that finally broke the camel’s back, causing me to write, was my visit on the morning of Saturday 18 October 2008. Although there were other customers in the restaurant, by no stretch of the imagination would I call it busy. I ordered two full English breakfasts, a large cafetière of coffee and a large pot of tea. You will be delighted to hear I was dining with Mrs Dibble, rather than succumbing to my usual gluttony, and joy of joys, the counter staff eventually managed to deliver us one mug each at the same time as our drinks. Sadly, from thereon in, it all went downhill.
Of course, our toast arrived several minutes before the rest of the breakfasts, allowing it to chill nicely, to the texture of damp cardboard. I realise this may in part have been my own fault for confusing the staff by asking for well done bacon, but I do like to live optimistically. When the breakfasts arrived several minutes later, the plates they were served on were stone cold, which had the effect of chilling the food thereon to just above room temperature, and thus barely palatable.
I then had the temerity to approach the till and complain about this. Of course, there was the usual delay in being acknowledged while I went through my usual invisible man routine. When I was eventually acknowledged, the baked beans had congealed to the state of coagulated blood at a day old murder scene, and the fried egg was the consistency of chalk - greasy, cold chalk. I outlined my complaint, and the staff member disappeared into the kitchen. I was left at the counter to employ my powers of telepathy, as she had not seen fit to tell me where, or why, she was going.
Several minutes later, another member of staff appeared from the kitchen, and I outlined my dissatisfaction to her. I realise that the likes of Gordon Ramsay, Michel Roux (junior and senior) and Heston Blumenthal may well disagree with customer’s views of their cooking, but I did not expect to be disbelieved by staff in one of your stores. That is what happened, and I returned with the staff member to our table, where the plate was by now not quite stone cold, having been warmed by the food. Conversely, the food had been robbed of any warmth in its vain attempt to breathe a little life into the plate.
Once the staff member was satisfied I was not some crazed cold plate complainer, she did very kindly offer to cook some fresh food for us, but by this time I was losing the will to live, and really could not be bothered to wait any longer. I was instead given a full refund, as I requested. I left the restaurant more jaded than when I arrived, which would seem to me to be the opposite of its purpose.
I realise these whinges may seem inconsequential when taken separately, but when combined, they have driven me to almost terminal frustration and disappointment. I would be delighted to hear your views. You will no doubt be delighted to hear that I shall continue to enjoy your supermarkets' sausages, although I shall have to cook and serve them to myself from now on.
Yours sincerely
Dibble
I have been visiting your store at Any Street, Anytown, for some time now, and have used the restaurant there on numerous occasions. The food served is generally of a very high standard, and is sold at reasonable prices. However, almost every visit has been marred by some slight niggle, which has made each visit less enjoyable than it should have been.
I have lost count of the number of times I have had to ask staff for cutlery or napkins as the trays at the counter were empty. It seems beyond the capabilities of the staff to be able to deliver just one mug, rather than two cups, with a large pot of tea, even when asked to do so at the time of ordering. In fact, to steal a line from Victoria Wood, it often seems as though the counter staff are moving underwater. I often wonder whether they are actually checking the recipe for toast, because it is a miraculous occasion if the toast ever arrives at the same time as the rest of my full English breakfast, and on those rare occasions it does, it usually arrives without butter…
I have often stood at the till, waiting to be served, in full view of two or three members of staff behind the counter, and felt as though I am being ignored. It was obvious to me that these staff were busy preparing orders for other customers, but a simple acknowledgment of my presence, together with “I’ll be with you in a minute”, would have made my heart sing with joy. I cannot claim that the staff have not seen me, as I have the physique of Pavarotti, although sadly, not the voice.
Were I to visit the restaurant at times when it is busy, then I could perhaps forgive some of these transgressions. Unfortunately, I almost always visit on weekdays in the middle of the morning, when there are maybe between six to ten other customers present. The counter staff still seem to take umbrage that customers are interrupting their heady social whirl, and spoiling the ebb and flow of their riveting personal conversations.
The straw that finally broke the camel’s back, causing me to write, was my visit on the morning of Saturday 18 October 2008. Although there were other customers in the restaurant, by no stretch of the imagination would I call it busy. I ordered two full English breakfasts, a large cafetière of coffee and a large pot of tea. You will be delighted to hear I was dining with Mrs Dibble, rather than succumbing to my usual gluttony, and joy of joys, the counter staff eventually managed to deliver us one mug each at the same time as our drinks. Sadly, from thereon in, it all went downhill.
Of course, our toast arrived several minutes before the rest of the breakfasts, allowing it to chill nicely, to the texture of damp cardboard. I realise this may in part have been my own fault for confusing the staff by asking for well done bacon, but I do like to live optimistically. When the breakfasts arrived several minutes later, the plates they were served on were stone cold, which had the effect of chilling the food thereon to just above room temperature, and thus barely palatable.
I then had the temerity to approach the till and complain about this. Of course, there was the usual delay in being acknowledged while I went through my usual invisible man routine. When I was eventually acknowledged, the baked beans had congealed to the state of coagulated blood at a day old murder scene, and the fried egg was the consistency of chalk - greasy, cold chalk. I outlined my complaint, and the staff member disappeared into the kitchen. I was left at the counter to employ my powers of telepathy, as she had not seen fit to tell me where, or why, she was going.
Several minutes later, another member of staff appeared from the kitchen, and I outlined my dissatisfaction to her. I realise that the likes of Gordon Ramsay, Michel Roux (junior and senior) and Heston Blumenthal may well disagree with customer’s views of their cooking, but I did not expect to be disbelieved by staff in one of your stores. That is what happened, and I returned with the staff member to our table, where the plate was by now not quite stone cold, having been warmed by the food. Conversely, the food had been robbed of any warmth in its vain attempt to breathe a little life into the plate.
Once the staff member was satisfied I was not some crazed cold plate complainer, she did very kindly offer to cook some fresh food for us, but by this time I was losing the will to live, and really could not be bothered to wait any longer. I was instead given a full refund, as I requested. I left the restaurant more jaded than when I arrived, which would seem to me to be the opposite of its purpose.
I realise these whinges may seem inconsequential when taken separately, but when combined, they have driven me to almost terminal frustration and disappointment. I would be delighted to hear your views. You will no doubt be delighted to hear that I shall continue to enjoy your supermarkets' sausages, although I shall have to cook and serve them to myself from now on.
Yours sincerely
Dibble
Edited by Dibble on Monday 20th October 21:02
Would love to read one of your MG11s if they are like this, 7/10.
ETA: Actually, I'm afraid I will have to downgrade this to a 6/10 as you got a full refund.
ETA again: Like the analogy of day old blood at murder scene. Back to 7/10.
ETA: Actually, I'm afraid I will have to downgrade this to a 6/10 as you got a full refund.
Edited by Isoproturon1 on Monday 20th October 21:12
ETA again: Like the analogy of day old blood at murder scene. Back to 7/10.
Edited by Isoproturon1 on Monday 20th October 21:13
It's a local "supermarket" chain (for local people) that does a lot of really unusual/higher end grocies/deli type stuff.
The food in the restaurant is really quite good - it's nowhere like a Tesafeburywayda.
I'd name the chain, but PH has the no naming and shaming. There's no preoblem with the food, it's just the service, which with some really small improvements could make things so much better - ie HOT food goes on HOT plates, COLD food goes on COLD plates. This appears to be a mystery to their staff.
The food in the restaurant is really quite good - it's nowhere like a Tesafeburywayda.
I'd name the chain, but PH has the no naming and shaming. There's no preoblem with the food, it's just the service, which with some really small improvements could make things so much better - ie HOT food goes on HOT plates, COLD food goes on COLD plates. This appears to be a mystery to their staff.
Lois22 said:
Little bit "nice" for my liking, but good first attempt 
Loved the Pavarotti line though!!!
Isn't this where you say "...and I've met you in real life, and your loads slimmer. And not Italian, Or an opera singer. Or dead..."Loved the Pavarotti line though!!!
Thought not.
BTW, the chain has a store across the road from RPH...
chris_w666 said:
7/10 for politeness.
Or 2/10 for the worst send me free sausage to stop me moaning letter ever.
I'm not after a freebie, just finally driven to write after (for me) last weekend's final attempt by their staff to perform. Hopefully, the boss might read the letter, he might chuckle, he might pass on the comments, and things might improve for their other customers.Or 2/10 for the worst send me free sausage to stop me moaning letter ever.
No point in a shouty rant.
Isoproturon1 said:
Would love to read one of your MG11s if they are like this, 7/10.
I may have previously written in one of my statements something along the lines of..."SMITH then raised his right arm, clenched his fist, and holding it at shoulder height, moved it repeatedly back and forth, intimating that I was a practitioner of manual sexual self gratification..."
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