I was sitting in the lunchroom at CheeseGov this afternoon, reading my Kindle (We Need to Talk About Kevin, because nothing screams the holidays like a magical, lighthearted romp about a fictional school massacre), when I overheard a conversation between coworkers two tables down.
“Hey, Sarah,” one of the women said. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
Maybe Larry David is my spirit animal, because this struck me as being well past the expiration date for a holiday inquiry. Thanksgiving was six days ago. All the leftovers, save for 1/3 of a jar of Trader Joe’s cranberry sauce, have either been consumed or tossed. Turkey Day feels like an eternity ago.
And by the way, why am I still seeing Black Friday ads on a no-specific-color Wednesday five days after the fact?
I quit following the conversation because I was pretty engrossed in the story of a mom dealing with the aftermath of her psychotic teenager who went on a killing spree and gunned down his classmates, so I have no idea whether Sarah had a good Thanksgiving or not.
Maybe on Jan. 4 I’ll hear all about her Christmas.
Last Wednesday, I grabbed dinner from a local sandwich shop in Madison. (OK, it was Casetta Kitchen. Gonna give ’em some blog love.) Because it was the day before Thanksgiving, they were packed. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who found the idea of cooking a meal the evening before the biggest cooking day of the year unappealing.
Had to save up all that energy for the gravy, yo.
I’d ordered the sandwiches online, and after receiving an alert that they were ready, stopped by to get them, but the Mobile Order Pickup table had nothing for Mark. I was afraid someone had snatched them, but it turned out the orders were just running late because the joint was so hoppin’. Whew! These boots were made for walkin’, not chasing down a sandwich thief on the mean streets of Madison.
Afterward, CK emailed me a survey inquiring about my experience. I gave them 5 stars for accuracy, food quality, and appearance and 3 stars for service. A little box popped up saying, HEY! WHY ONLY 3 STARS FOR SERVICE? (I may be paraphrasing here), so I commented that my order wasn’t ready for pick up even though they’d notified me otherwise. But this wasn’t a complaint, and I was polite about it; shit happens, I get it, no biggie. I answered the last question on the survey — how likely are you to visit us again? — 5 on a scale of 5, e.g., Very, so clearly I wasn’t upset. Their sandwiches are among the best in town, sliced-to-order deli meats/cheeses and homemade toppings tucked into freshly baked focaccia bread. The Sullivan (prosciutto, provolone, arugula, balsamic, hot peppers) is my fave. Of course I’ll go back!
I kinda want one now, just typing that…
The next morning, I received notification that CK had issued a full refund because my order had been late. They added $28.75 back to my debit card, so this was not an insignificant amount (totally worth the $ though, see drool-worthy Sullivan above). This was completely unexpected and not the least bit necessary, but certainly appreciated. It was a minor inconvenience at best. So, hats off to Casetta Kitchen for fantastic customer service.
And hats off to me for filling out the online survey in the first place. I doubt many people bother, but look at it this way: that survey took me three minutes to complete, which means I earned $575 an hour thanks to the refund. I don’t want to divulge how much I’m making at CheeseGov, but suffice it to say, it’s nowhere near that amount. Not bad for answering a few simple questions.
Something similar happened when I lived in the PNW. We were eating dinner at Sweet Tomatoes and the tomato soup had a weird metallic taste, so I politely let them know about that. A few days later, the store manager called me personally to apologize and gave me vouchers for three free meals. That was still paying off for me months later.
The moral of this story? Always take the survey. (And, I guess, don’t be afraid to complain…but be nice about it.)
Speaking of complaining, I’m tempted to give Dunkin’ corporate a piece of my mind for breaking my heart. Every Wednesday, I treat myself to a fancy coffee and a bite to eat on the way to work, a reward for making it through the first two days of the week.
(It’s the little victories, guys.)
When I placed my usual order this morning, I learned that my favorite menu item has been discontinued. RIP, chorizo and egg wrap! I literally let out a gasp and pulled over to the curb, distraught. If any passersby on Main Street in Fort Atkinson at 7 a.m. were wondering why a grown-ass man in a red Hyundai was sobbing uncontrollably, mystery solved.
This just sucks. I’ve waxed poetically about that chorizo egg wrap for two years. (OK, maybe not poetically, but there has been plenty of waxing.) I’m not a big fan of any breakfast sandwich that doesn’t start with a Mc, and while there are other options — this is The Place Formerly Known as Dunkin’ Donuts, after all — I generally avoid sweets for breakfast. That chorizo and egg wrap, a harmonious blend of scrambled eggs, sausage, and cheese stuffed inside a red pepper lavash, was like crack to me. Savory, slightly spicy, full of flavor. It always hit the spot.
I don’t know what I’m going to do now. The coffee is great, but nothing else on the Dunkin’ menu slaps like that chorizo and egg wrap. I sometimes hit up Starbucks instead — there’s one located directly across the street from CheeseGov, and they have some halfway-decent breakfast items — but they are always crowded, often sell out of what I like, and because they’re 45 minutes from home, placing an order requires precise timing. The landfill on Hwy. 12 is my marker. Once the smell of decaying trash hits, I know it’s time to pull up the Starbucks app. I try not to think of the possible symbolism but it’s hard. Ideally, I’d get my goods from the local coffee shop on Main Street in my adopted hometown, but they open a few minutes too late.
I wonder if they’d change their hours to appease the grown-ass man in the red Hyundai sobbing uncontrollably?
Mark My Words 
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