What Not To Do At Dunkin Donuts at 7:00 AM

dunkin_donuts.jpg

America may run on Dunkin, but I assure you, the idiots that put on the smocks in Berwyn do NOT run the Dunkin. It’s a classic case (classic? I know I just turned a phrase, but it seems to be more of a literary thing – do people actually say, “A classic case?”) of the inmates running the asylum.

I just wanted a cup of coffee, and got a lesson in economic subterfuge. After the jump.

dunkin_donuts.jpg

America may run on Dunkin, but I assure you, the idiots that put on the smocks in Berwyn do NOT run the Dunkin. It’s a classic case (classic? I know I just turned a phrase, but it seems to be more of a literary thing – do people actually say, “A classic case?”) of the inmates running the asylum.

I just wanted a cup of coffee, and got a lesson in economic subterfuge. After the jump.


I guess it all starts with listening. My DD is similar in nature in every way to the classic “Cheezborger” sketch on SNL. I walk in and say, “Coffee – cream.”

French Vanilla, what donut.

No, no donut.

Regular coffee, cream.

Not French Vanilla.

Ok. Cream. How many donuts.

Not French Vanilla.

Right. No French Vanilla. (grabbing bag for donuts and staring at me blankly like I’m supposed to pick a donut)

NO donut.

No donut? (notice this is the first time in this conversation he changed his pattern to actually indicate a question)Special number 1.

I just want the coffee.

French Vanilla?

I feel like I have to say that this really did happen. I truly wish I was making this up (it would hopefully be a lot funnier), I know it sounds like “he’s a writer, trying to be funny, it’s not funny, I can see through this” but yes, I am trying to be a writer, and I am trying to be funny most times, but this is what happened. Back to the story.

“James” – as his nametag said – and this is another sidenote – are DD starting to pull the Help Desk thing? Where I know I’m being routed to India when I call Dell Tech Support – but the guy at the other end of the phone keeps insisting that his name is Derek, and that he loves it in Houston, Texas, and he really hopes the Chicago would beat the Superbowl. Who does he think he’s fooling? Not me. And SURE, there is a chance that this guy at DD’s name is James – but a quick scan, I see a James (my dude), a Nancy, a Susan, a Jen and a Benjamin. Not to mention the “Theodore” who lords over them all with the clipboard, making sure that I’m getting my “French Vanilla and 2 donuts, because that’s special number 1.” I don’t care what your name is, what version of English you’re muddling through, or how long your hair is – all I wanted was one cup of coffee, with cream.

So. James wanted to give me French Vanilla, and 2 donuts. I did not want the donuts, and just wanted regular coffee. I now realized that arguing wasn’t going to get me anywhere, and that, in the bigger picture – this guy was upselling me! This wasn’t about what I wanted – this was about what was good for DD! This was about what was good for him. Well played, “James” – I salute your unique ploy – in using your “misunderstanding” of the English language to get me to buy more. Perhaps thinking you could prey on my “white guilt” and not want to cause a scene, I would give in, thus earning your company another $1.18.

Well played indeed.

And now that I’m sitting at my desk, which I sit at every day, and looking at the computer screen that I look at every day, and anticipating the bullshit that comes in every day – I am beginning to think that I like the French Vanilla better than regular.

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