I have a sushi place in my neighborhood that I love. The food is cheap, it’s really good and they deliver in under 15 minutes. Literally. I barely hang up the phone and they’re at my door. It’s incredible.
It was incredible.
I now need to find a new sushi place. They didn’t burn down or get condemned or anything like that. They’re just being kind of bitches.
A few weeks back Boo and I got sushi from Hokkaido. (That’s right, I’m telling you who they are so that you can all walk by and throw water balloons at their windows and leave banana peels on the sidewalks in front of their restaurant so that no one goes in. Or, so, you know…you don’t go.) Normally, I pay cash. It’s just easier. Plus, I get the same thing every time so I know how much I’ll need. Well, neither of us had cash that night so Boo just charged it. No problem there.
Then, last Monday, I ordered dinner. Same thing I get every time. Salmon/avocado roll and a tuna roll. I’m a little kid, I can only fit so much food in my stomach. They asked me my phone number and my address info pulled up, same as always. I think I’m the only person ordering with my area code. Then they asked me “cash or charge.” I thought this might be the case and very clearly said CASH.
So 13 minutes later the doorman calls to tell me my food is on the way (I TOLD you they were quick!). I grab my cash and open the door. The guy hands me a receipt, which was strange. “Um, no,” I say, “I said I was paying cash.” “Oh okay.” I paid. I shut the door. I called Hokkaido and told them to make sure that it didn’t get charged because, as I spelled out for them when they asked me the first time, I paid cash.
I called Boo to give him the heads up that he may be seeing a charge. I wasn’t fully confident that they had canceled it. All was well until last Thursday when he checked his balance and saw the $12.45 from Hokkaido. Super.
I called them back (and yes, their number WAS in my speed dial) and let them have it. Or I tried to anyway. The conversation went as follows.
Yeah, hi, I called earlier this week about canceling a charge for my dinner. I paid in cash. I told you I was going to.
Yeah we canceled.
Um, but you didn’t. It showed up on my bank statement.
No, we canceled. You check back tomorrow.
Well, it isn’t going to just go away. You didn’t cancel it. You needed to.
No, we canceled.
*SIGH* Okay, well, can you cancel the number? I don’t want it to show up when I call.
Yeah, we canceled the number.
No, not the charge. I’m asking you if you canceled the number. Deleted it from my account. I don’t want it there anymore.
**REPEATED THIS PART OF THE CONVERSATION 3 TIMES BEFORE FINALLY GETTING….*
Oh, no, not canceled.
Well…could you cancel it then? That’s kind of what I’ve been asking for the last five minutes.
Hold on please. *Insert attitude here.*
Then I hear her talking to a coworker and the only words I understand are “card” “charge” and “cancel.” But I don’t need to speak another to understand that she was PISSED and to understand that half of those words were probably “bitch.”
Um, I can hear you talking about me?!
We canceled. Anything else?
No. No thanks.
Sure, they asked “anything else” but I’m pretty sure that what they meant was “next time you call, we’re giving you the oldest tuna we have and we’re slipping in the puffer fish–but we won’t slice it correctly. Have a good night!”
Seems like it might be time to find a new sushi place.