The Olive Garden at the shops of Allen was once a go-to. I just WALKED after yet another evening of OBNOXIOUS service, this time at the hands of business-card-to-the-far-right manager Angelina Diaz.
Our last meal was comped after a reportedly newbie server "Meghan" took clueless to a new level. The restaurant was EMPTY and we couldn't beg this girl to leave her chat-post by the kitchen to beg for food. We were at Olive Garden an hour before we received our melted cheese and toast. I'm no chef, but I can melt cheese and make bread turn brown. The GM, Ron Burke, came to our table to accept responsibility for the nightmare of an evening and graciously take the blame for their inability to produce toast: "We put it through three times, it wasn't just right." At any rate, the evening was horrific enough for them to comp the check. I would have gladly paid double for a pleasant evening.
Tonight, we made it PERFECTLY CLEAR to the front that we did NOT want Meghan. They seated us and one of our regulars...a charming waiter...came to our table to take our order. Meghan was in her usual position, chatting it up with another (usual) waitress.
Did I mention we are SERIOUS regulars?
So, after we ordered tonight, MEGHAN came over to tell us that she knew we'd already given our order, but she'd be taking care of us. We asked for a manager.
Enter (eventually) Agelina Diaz, smug, loaded with attitude and (in all seriousness) wearing pants tight enough to verify her underwear brand. Advising me this was the first time she'd met me...we've eaten there every other night on particularly busy weeks...she went on to be such an condescending *** that we chose to go to the front, request our check and leave.
Not satisfied to leave completely destroyed alone, she followed me to the front and said, "All fed up then?"
"There's a reason I didn't ask for you, " I replied, then reitterated my request for the check from the innocent employee manning the front.
"Okay, well that's FINE with me..." she started, flipping her hair back with hrand drama.
"I didn't ask you, " I replied.
Suffice to say...I'm done. When I get finished sharing this story, I'll drive across town to Kenny's, where they DO know my name and treat me with the respect any customer should deserve.
Plus...they hire competent servers and the food rocks.