Bourbon Chicken Is Not Worth The Pain

Notre Dame 41, Penn St. 17
ND 2-0


I was so mad earlier this evening I could have smacked someone upside the head and not felt guilty about it later. Yes. I could have.

The football game was great and, due to Sherene’s incredible generosity with her apartment, I was able to bypass all the worry about parking (because I spent the night at Sherene’s). So we’re in a very good mood on the way to Carolyn’s house and, once there, the rest of the crew defer to me and we order Chinese food from Golden Dragon. Life is rosy.

An hour later, however, life has started to lose a wee bit of its sparkly pink sheen. I call the Golden Dragon for an update on our food. I am told that they are very busy and that my food would be ready in 25 minutes; no, it would not be easier for me to pick it up than have it delivered.

So fine, we keep watching the Texas/OSU game. An hour later, and my outlook on life has paled considerably. And then gotten really dark. Homicidal, even, because I am still waiting for my food. I call Golden Dragon again, and am told to be patient, that my food is almost done, 10 minutes. I respond that I am going to pick it up.

I head down to the restaurant, where there are four disgruntled students who have been waiting for their food for an hour. Phones are ringing off the hook, and there are three people—only three—working behind the line. The woman answering phones took three minutes to find my order, then told me it was almost done. Ten minutes after that, I see them start my food. We’re now at 2 hours and ten minutes after the original order. Twenty minutes after that, I’m finally ready to go. The proprietor did not offer me a discount for my supreme inconvenience, nor for my patience. And while I was there, he had the gall to instruct the poor girl answering phones to tell people that, by calling to check on their very late food, they were just delaying everyone’s orders. Then he got pissed that people were cancelling said orders.

Suffice it to say, I will not be ordering from Golden Dragon again, and intend to advise others against it. I mean, it’s just bad business to take more orders than you can make, and worse not to tell people that it’s going to be a two hour wait, and even worse to make the customer feel that it’s somehow her fault. I mean, holy crap, the gall of it all.

Then, the piece de resistance, Robyn’s fortune: “do not let your goals fall to the trolls,” or something really similar. Definitely involved both goals and trolls. It was spectacular.

Song of the moment: “For the Glory of Love”~classic Richard Marx