Cheesecake Factory and my debacle Food Fetching Experience

This week we are on Hiatus. For those who don't know what that means, it means we are doing one of those weeks where you (as the viewer), hate the TV world because we are giving you a re-run and denying you a newly created show. Yep, our stage is dark and you are getting NOTHING from us except an episode you have already seen and may or may not love but will guaranteed not love as much as if it was a new episode. So le-sigh to you my friend.

But to the point of this blog, which is just to make me feel better and tell Cheesecake Factory how I had them like dog poo on the shoe, but more so cause I can't scrape Cheesecake Factory off on the curb.

Today, as I do many days, I had to go pick up lunch for a large group of people. I fax our order, call to confirm, then go pick it up. Some things that make this nice are the following, and note I am only including this list because you will see how important they are momentarily. 1) Getting the food right (kind of says itself). 2) Labeling people's food (cause I don't know what half the crap you make looks like) 3) Good and convenient parking 4) Helpful staff 5) Fast fast fast.

And now I shall detail why after work today I am going to a) go to target and buy a black stocking, and b) return to Cheesecake Factory to burn that bitch to the ground.

I arrive at "The Grove" which is basically one hella big outdoor mall as I would later determine, full of mental incompetence. And Cheesecake factory is somewhere in it. They tell me to park in the parking garage for convenient and ease as they validate up to two hours. They neglected to tell me the parking garage was a good quarter mile hike to their restaurant, and that it was uphill BOTH WAYS. That's right kids, your parents weren't lying about their daily trek to school through frostbitten weather on some mystical mountain that was somehow doubly uphill. It exists, and at the end right next to their school is apparently the forsaken cheesecake factory.

So after legging it there I go to stand next to the takeout counter and wait. And wait. And wait. and make a mental list of all the incompetent hostesses standing around chatting while I stand there looking like I need someone to help me out so that I can later extract burny downy vengeance, and I wait. Finally someone comes out from the back and we get underway, only to discover that they did not get the full fax and we are in fact about 10 meals short.
NOTE TO THE PA: Always check that they get both pages and all the names, cause weather or not it is obvious with it being labeled on the fax that there are 2 pages and 25 names or even by having a helpful paperclip graphic Windows style tell them, they may still be retarded enough to not figure it out on their own.
(Side Note: A large number of people in LA are aspiring actors, and such that are working in a restaurant to make their way. So keep in mind, they are not WAITERS, they are ACTORS. So they are often just good at acting like a waiter. So be prepared for a wait as they get their crap together.)
So where was I in my rant, oh yes. So she goes and puts in the rest of the orders and brings out the first few made. And they are not labeled. Granted in a perfect world I would have had a joyous stint as a waiter at cheesecake factory where I would have enjoyed an entertaining waiting life with free meals, midnight chases across rooftops and the occasional musical quartet where I played the trombone. This, however, is NOT a perfect world and I could not for the life of me figure out what the hell people ordered just by looking at it (as it was now up to me to label them) Can you tell me the different between Muso and Herb Crusted Salmon? I think not! And if you can then you lead a very delicious life.
So to continue, I label, and wait, and she brings out the other orders, minus a few cause she is an idiot and didn't put all of them in for whatever reason. So I wait for those and at the end of an all together long wait I end up with several extra meals I didn't order in addition to the ones I did which took awhile to get from her crazy ass.
Now for my favorite part of the evening. I pile up with not two, not four, but six big as shit bags of food. I am walking like a man trying to fly with my arms straight out to hold all this. Now I get to the front door of the place and a very helpful hostess looks at me, blinks a couple times and says "Oh my! Can I help you with that?" Now, this is how it goes. At a great restaurant someone will help you out by carrying your bags to the car with you. At an Okay restaurant they will call for one of the bus boys to help you out. This wonderful specimen of humanity came around the desk, flashed me a brilliant smile and said, "Let me get the door for you."
...
...
....
And I stabbed the bitch.
Not really, but it may have made me smile if I had.
Note when I came back for the second load she asked if she could hold the door again as though she was doing the world a favor. Apparently my mental stabbing did not keep her down.

So in conclusion, sweating, and tired from my many pound load and hike I made it back to the car and back to the office where I ate, blogged and was happy.
So today's lesson is this to the lowly PA.
If you are in charge of lunch make sure 1) They received the FULL order, 2) There is GOOD parking. 3) They LABEL the food. 4) They are not massively retarded.

Screw you Cheesecake Factory. I'm gettin my matches.

Fin.