'wichcraft

Dear 'wichcraft:

It pains to me to do this, but I have to write you a complaint letter. If it's any consolation, this letter was initially supposed to be about how 'wichcraft has ruined all other sandwiches for me with its own culinary masterpieces. But, after the service experience I had at lunch today, the subject of this letter had to change.

My coworkers and I are regular customers--nay, devotees--of 'wichcraft. And I must say, I had never really known a sandwich until I knew a 'wichcraft sandwich: so good; so consistently good. Today at lunch I even decided to try the marinated anchovy sandwich. I had never eaten anchovies before and, had I seen them as a item on any other place's menu, I wouldn't have even thought of ordering them. But 'wichcraft has never failed to disappoint, and I knew that if there was one place to try anchovies, then it was at the 'wich.

But I had to wait. And I mean wait. Other customers ordered and got their sandwiches; my two coworkers got their sandwiches; but I just stood there eagerly checking if my sandwich was next on the queue. After about 15 minutes of waiting, I asked the employee behind the counter if my sandwich would be ready soon. He responded that they were simply backed up and that the sandwich was on its way. After waiting a bit more, I asked again; and then again. It was clear to me that my marinated anchovy sandwich was at the bottom of the To-Do list and staying there. By the time I finally got my sandwich, I had waited over a half hour! I have a short lunch break, and such a wait cuts in too deep. And, just to put it in perspective, I would estimate the other customers' wait times to have been between 7-15 minutes, depending on whether the sandwiches were hot or cold (mine was a cold one!). In the end, I was hoping that I might be given a holy-crap-I-can't-even-begin-to-capture-its-creamy-awesomeness oatmeal cookie in return for my long wait, but instead I just received a brusque "sorry."

Now, with most food establishments this would have meant the end of it for me. While I completely understand that an order might be lost during a busy lunch hour, I can't understand why an employee would not acknowledge that it was lost, and accordingly prioritize the lost order over more recently placed orders. But my tummy does not heed such issues of principle. Provided the incident proves to have been just an anomaly, I will continue patronizing 'wichcraft.

Once again, it pains me to criticize a place that makes sandwiches that I love so much, a place that has done me and my coworkers right so many times. But I hope this complaint letter works toward making 'wichcraft more than just the place that makes the city's best sandwich, but also the city's best sandwich place.

Sincerely yours,
Christopher W.

P.S. The anchovy sandwich was, incidentally, delicious. I don't know how you guys do it.

Kayak.com Racist Ad

To Kayak:

I was looking up New York-Houston flights on your site-- which is hands down the best airfare search engine on the net, btw--and I see this pop up next to the 561 search results that were turned up:

"561 flights? Confucius say use the Kayak filters!"

What decade do you think we're living in? Or is Mickey Rooney your website editor? In case you didn't realize it, the phrase "Confucius say" is supposed to imitate an Asian person speaking English: as if the main thing English-speaking Asians do is impart the wisdom of Confucius in non-standard English grammar.

Kayak not only perpetuates this stereotype of Asians; it uses it to plug its website features.

For shame [wags finger],
Christopher W.

Response: Nokia Theatre Fainting Incident

Christopher

Please take a moment to read the reports I received from our night manager and head of security. It seems to me that they handled the situation as well as can be expected.

I’m not quite done looking into this yet, I need to know why, as you stated, the initial guard came and left and it took ten minutes to come back. Perhaps being held up by your extremely strong and kind friend made it hard to locate her.

As soon as I have more information I will share it with you.

Thanks

“Bill
I got a call that a woman passed out HR* main doors. When I arrived, I found security escorting her to the HR* hallway. She was not unconscious and denied any medical attention, she was with her husband/ boyfriend as well. I then retrieved the house wheelchair and we moved her away from the busy hallway to the ATM area.
Rick placed a woman security guard to watch over her and friend while she sobered up with plenty of water."

Nokia Theatre Fainting Incident

To Whom It May Concern:

Last Wednesday night, May 16, 2007, I saw Elvis Costello and the Imposters at the Nokia Theatre in Times Square. The performance was great: Elvis didn't pause or chit-chat for a moment as he tore through deep catalog numbers, fan-favorites, and Beatles covers for two hours. Unfortunately, my memory of the night is marred by a fainting incident that occurred halfway through the show. To be honest, I was just bothered by the fainting itself; what really disturbed me was the lack of response to the incident by the Nokia Theatre staff.

Here's what happened. Midway through "High Fidelity," I felt something splash on my right foot. I turned my head and saw that the middle-aged woman next to me, visibly drunk and swaying precariously, had dropped her drink, which--by the look on her face--had been filled with pure moonshine.

I turned to my friend to see if he thought the woman would vomit. We both felt it was a sure bet. As I glanced back at her to confirm our predictions, I noticed the woman's swaying had increased in speed and circumference. Suddenly, she toppled over. My friend, quick to action, caught her before she hit the ground. I, just as quick to action, immediately assumed the role of "concerned onlooker," though I was somewhat annoyed that the woman fainted during one of the stand-out songs of Elvis' early career.

A small crowd of concerned onlookers gathered around the woman, who now lay unconscious in my friend's arms. One quick-thinking onlooker called over a security guard for help. Phew, I thought as the security guard walked over, now I can get back to the matter at hand: rockin' out to some EC. But, to my great surprise, the security guard just stood there, looking as dumb and dumb-founded as the rest of us. After a minute or two of standing there, the guard ran off, presumably to retrieve help.

But presumably he didn't, because 10 minutes later, my friend is still on the beer-puddled floor of the Nokia Theatre with a dead-drunk woman in his arms. And, as this is going on, EC is whipping out classics like "(I Don't Want to Go To) Chelsea," "Uncomplicated," and "Radio Radio." Luckily, I was playing enough air guitar for the both of us.

Finally, just as my friend's arms are about to give out, two security guards amble over, pull the woman up, and drag her out of the crowded main space. (And, just so it's clear that there was no excuse for the delay, we were about 15 feet from the door the whole time).

Ready for the coup de grâce? An hour later, near the end of Elvis' set, I head to the bathroom and run into--guess who? Yup, the very same drunken woman who had collapsed to the floor. Still unconscious. In a wheelchair. Outside the mens' room.

Are you kidding me? Do you think this is the way to handle an emergency? Here's what you should have done: taken the woman out of the crowded concert hall immediately after she passed out; then, called an ambulance to take her out the side entrance.

Here's what you shouldn't have done: put the unconscious woman in a wheelchair outside the mens' room.

So ridiculous.

Unless you have a good explanation, I'm never coming back to the Nokia Theatre. And I'm sure as hell not passing out there.

Sincerely,
Christopher W.

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Thanks to Bumpershine for use of the Nokia Theatre image!

Fifth Avenue Epicure

Dear Fifth Avenue Epicure:

First off, fine establishment you got there. Among the countless lunch places in the Flatiron District, Fifth Avenue Epicure stands out as one of the best: good food, good selection, affordable prices. It's not surprising many of your patrons are regulars. Hey, I'm one too.

But here's the thing: that guy Mark behind the counter is creepy.

I think you already know what I mean, but let me give you a typical encounter with him. You get to the counter and it's, "Hey, buddy, how's the day treating you? What can I do you for? How 'bout a sandwich? You want a sandwich? Or a soup? Good soups today, good soups." Okay, so he's friendly. Maybe a little too friendly, but I can't hold that against him. But here's the twist. Suddenly, he turns to one of the other workers behind the counter and snarls out a string of curses and insults, most of which don't bear repeating. And I'm quite sure it isn't Tourette Syndrome; it's just mean. And then, as if that isn't weird enough, he turns right back to you with a huge smile and says, "So you want a potato leek soup? Yea, I bet you do. And I know you want some cheese on that. That's how you like it, heh?"

He's straight out of a Saturday Night Live sketch. No, wait, Mad TV. He's not remotely funny.

And I can't even imagine what I'd think of him if I were a girl. If I step into Epicure for five minutes to grab a sandwich, I am guaranteed to hear one of the following epithets directed at a female: honey, sweetie, sugar, darling, or baby. And not in an endearing Southern kind of way. In a really sketchy, I-don't-want-to-see-what-this-guy-has-on-his-hard-drive kind of way.

Although I enjoy the food at your fine establishment, I find myself less and less inclined to order it from someone who openly demeans his coworkers and customers.

Sincerely--but not creepily--yours,

Christopher W.