Subway Sadness II: The Apathy Machine

This is a different Subway story. The first one was never brought up by the individual store after that information was passed on by corporate.

Traveling to Danville, VA, I stopped on the way in Reidsville, NC.

Worst. Subway. Evar.

Two of the four employees were outside loudly conversing. As I walked in, the energy inside was that of a funeral parlor. The other two employees were loudly conversing in the restaurant, but quickly quieted when I entered. Four people were seated and eating. One of the employees shuffled behind the counter.

I walked up to the counter, chipper as ever, and it took about five seconds to realize that I was not going to get a "Hello," "Good afternoon," or even a "Hi." I let it stew a couple seconds more.

"Subway club, please," I said.
No response.
"Um, on wheat?"
"Okay." She never made eye contact.
She put the meat on the sub and stood in front of the veggies.
"I'll have..." blah blah blah. She wrapped the sub and slid it over to the second in-store employee.
Second employee, even worse.
No words. I just handed my card to her. After she swiped it, she held it in a limbo between the register and where I would be marginally expected to expect that it was being handed to me. I took the card.
I said "Thanks!" and walked out.

Read the last post. This puts it to shame. Totally deplorable.

Subway: Their Way, and Screw Your Money

Last Thanksgiving, I was on an unexpected trip to Maryland to see my sister. NC to MD takes us through Richmond, VA. We decided to stop before the required 95 traffic mess that was to ensue. Just south of Richmond, we hit a gas station that was fully-equipped with a Subway. Excited for our evening snack, my wife, daughter, and I ponied-up to the counter. We were all getting the deli rounds.

Sara ordered. Ariel ordered.

And then me.

"I'd like a roast beef round, and could you add pepperoni?"
"No, sir, I can't do that."
(stunned)
"I'm sorry, could you just add pepperoni to the sandwich?"
"No, we can't do that."
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
"Can I add it and pay for it?"
"Sorry sir, we can't do that."

WTF?

So I laughed through the experience, joking about getting extra cheese.

Not two weeks later, Sara went to our local Subway with Ariel in prep for a Christmas show. They had a special for six inch turkey and ham subs. Related interaction:

"Can I get one of those turkey and ham subs with no ham?"
"I'm sorry, we can't do that."
"So I'd like a turkey and ham sub and you can keep the ham? You can't do that?"
"No. Sorry."
"You can keep the ham. I just want the turkey on it."
"Nope."
"Okay, how about you make the sub, take off the ham, put it in a bag or something, and then add the toppings."
"That's cool."

My daughter got her turkey sub and a small packet of ham went into the trash can in the store because of it.

What the hell's going on? When did it become a problem to train your workforce to accept money for anything. Especially things you were already offering?

I have written a letter of calm complaint to Subway and hope to make this my first Bad Business that turns. I hope (and by that I don't mean coupons. I mean "hey, sorry," which is excusable for this offense).

I love you Subway. Make it right.

[!!UPDATE!!]
Email from Subway:

My name is Kenny Partin, and I am a Business Consultant for the North Carolina Subway Group, Inc.

I received your comments concerning the Subway located in Clemmons, North Carolina. A copy of your comments have been forwarded to the owner of this store for his action.

I would like to apologize to you for any inconvenience this has caused you and we hope to rectify this situation so that it will not occur again. Thank you for your loyalty to the Subway brand and we hope that we can continue to be of service to you.

Thank you,

Kenny Partin
_____

Well, it's something. Hoping for a follow-up from the actual store. Then I could call this complaint closed.