Father's Day Fail

Afternoon Everyone, 

This weekend we celebrate in style Dads of all shapes and sizes. Some people have Dad's. Some people have Fathers. Some people have Daddy's. Some people have Sugar-Daddy's. Some people have no Dad. Some people have two Dad's. Some people have Step Dad's. I just had a Dad. He is not the best or the most amazing, but he tries and that is all I can ask. Over the last few years, we have had our difficulties and troubles, but I am proud to say we have worked through them. 

To celebrate I booked a table yesterday at the Beefeater at Priory Country Park in Bedford for a nice meal. It was anything but. Arriving, My Dad, his wife, Mr Warehouse and I all waited the nearly twenty-minute wait patiently just get into the pub. The problems began almost immediately. It took 20-minutes for someone to come and take our drinks order. After the drinks arrived, it was a further 45-minutes before we had to physically ask someone to come and take our food order. We did this twice as we were told that “someone would be with you soon” however of course, "no one was with us soon". 

Laughing and chatting it became a little more pressing considering we only had the table for an hour and a half so after another 10-minutes and with most of the staff now actively avoiding walking past our table and our gazes, we had to stop another waitress and ask them to please come and take our food order. All was not over then as once we placed our food order it was another 40-minutes before the food finally arrived and even then, it was far below the bare basic of expectations. 

Dad’s wife had a beef roast dinner and the beef was very thickly cut and had scorch marks on it from a griddle. WHY?! Surely. as roast beef, it should be carved off the main joint and served not griddled to the point of it being so thick and chewy she had to leave most of it as it was quote “like eating corrugated cardboard”. 

It didn’t get much better with Dad’s meal. Ordering the ribs he expected, as written on the menu, to have an accompaniment of coleslaw which was not on the plate when it arrived. We had to collar a waiter and asked if we can have this brought out. He explained that the meal doesn’t come with it and left. Feeling stupid, we all then relooked at the menu, just to check we were correct and, sure enough, it confirmed that yes, the rib's did come with a side of coleslaw. Yet again, we called over another member of the waiting staff and explained that our meal was missing the coleslaw. They too questioned it and said we would be charged for the side of coleslaw and we yet again for a third time had to explain the menu to your members of staff. 

"Oh my god, Honestly what is wrong with this place," I thought to myself as the coleslaw was soon delivered to the table. "Surely it can't get worse than this" were my famous last words it seems as I unwrapped my knife and fork. 

Mr Warehouse and I ordered the same meal, the “our best” mixed grill which was far from the best and if that really is their “best” then as a company I think they may need to reword it to “we-don’t-give-a-shit-too-much”-Mixed Grill. as our meal's arrived with no way of telling which was which. I had ordered a rare steak and yet mine was medium-rare. Mr Warehouse ordered medium and yet his steak was well-done to the point of being charred. 

Unfortunately, I cannot say that this is the end of our issues as there are sadly still more, we had to endure. Yet again as with Dad’s meal, Mr Warehouse and I also had items missing including, our poached eggs which, when asked, we received very quickly. It was obvious they were not cooked fresh to order and instead of the soft, runny yolks we had asked for we were instead presented with poached eggs slopped onto a plate with little care or thought and with yolks on par with a fucking golf ball, cooked right the way through and had clearly been sat for a while under the hot plate.

In all honesty, it was getting beyond a joke now. With the exception of my Dad's ribs, all of our meals were burnt so much so I could not finish mine for tasting like coal. If I wanted to taste ash and char I would have gone outside and licked an ashtray. At this point we were all in two minds as to even order pudding due to the absolutely abysmally poor service, however we took a chance that there may be some reclaim, considering most desserts are quite quick and easy so mistakes should be pretty much non-existent. Not the case. 

We waited again quite some time for desserts to arrive and even then, the time we had to wait had clearly not been used on presentation as my dessert fell apart instantly before the “chocolate melting bomb surprise” could be revealed. Dad’s wife had her coffee arrive before her dessert when they were meant to arrive together. By the time her dessert arrived, a small and poorly cut slice of chocolate mousse cake, the coffee was almost gone. This should, as detailed in the menu be brought out together and not separate.

It had truthfully got to the point of laughable now as we sat for a further 30-40 mins before we had to again ask a server to pay our bill. Honestly, they were lucky that we even paid for our meal as I was fuming to the point of which I was about to say let's just get up and walk out, without paying. After getting our second bill as the first one was incorrect (I mean you literally can't even make this shit up at this point) I set aside my card and awaited the card machine in order to pay our £73-odd bill. AGAIN we had to wait a long while with no one checking in on us before we had to ask more waiting staff to come with the card machine so we could pay and finally leave.

On arrival with the card machine came another bill, this time showing the “correct” figure as the waitress had said that the second calculated bill did not include drinks or dessert?! The bill was incorrect again! She asked me to check the new £90+ bill to make sure it was correct – Despite it being HER JOB! Furious I paid and left immediately. I prayed that they would ask me how my day had been or how was the meal so I could let rip and crumble from my calm and polite demeanour. 

Now I get that COVID has had a huge impact on the hospitality industry with monies lost every single day the doors have been shut, but there is no excusing this level of shocking service. It could have been excused if maybe it was one or two things that had slipped up, but at every point in our experience, it was atrocious. At no point were we checked in on. At no point were we asked if everything was OK. At no point were we asked if we needed anything else. We literally had to ask for everything from the moment we stepped inside to the moment we left. 

Now I get that it wasn't that poor girl's fault necessarily for all of the failings, but Jesus come on! I just felt like saying "GET IT TOGETHER PEOPLE"! It could have been excused if maybe it was the first opening weekend or even the first few weeks, but places like this have been open for some time now. Things like this should not be happening. I mean it's not as if these places haven’t had a year to prepare for Father’s Day 2021?! 

I was honestly so embarrassed. I get that I am eating in a family-friendly chain restaurant and not The Ritz, but this was meant to be, as for a lot of people, a very special Father’s Day meal out with my Dad whom I had not seen in some time and yet it was an absolute shambles. It was nice seeing them but I can truthfully say hand on heart that there was nothing, absolutely nothing at all, that I enjoyed about yesterday’s meal and I know that my Dad, his wife and my fiancé all feel exactly the same.

This morning I tried calling through to the 0333 number online, however, after nearly an hour on hold I gave up and instead wrote a disgruntled letter in less time it took for them to answer my call. I hope that the Beefeater we went to were just on a bum day and that this was just a one-off (despite getting it wrong, on many levels, over seventeen times) and that other people had a lovely day with their Dad, or Dads, or Step-Dad's or Daddy's or even more so to those lucky fuckers with Sugar-Daddy's. Happy Fathers Day to one and all. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

Remember, if you would like to purchase anything then please feel free to check out my store at: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/Wooftys or visit our Instagram @WooftysDogTreats and use "TATOATS21" to get 10% off your first order over £15.00.

The Blues of Bank Holiday in Britain!

Howdy Ya'll, 

Sorry about that intro - Definitely been watching too much Teen Mom OG there! Little obsessed at the moment, especially with Caitlyn and Tyler's gorgeous wedding (Tyler had me in tears with that speech). Anyway! On with the show!

So with this weekend being a bank holiday in the UK you would have guessed I might be off on another adventure somewhere abroad or maybe living it up here in good old blightly with some pals, heading out to a farm or a theme park. Sadly to say I am poor. Slumdog Nill-ionaire that's what they call me! With another week until payday and already on my last few pennies, this weekend has been a frustrating mess of odds and sods dinners, household chores not getting done and catching up on good telly. Apart from collecting Mr. Warehouse's pooch on bank holiday Friday and getting her settled in, maybe the only highlight of my weekend otherwise was heading out with Mr. Warehouse and my other work colleagues to celebrate (or commiserate) the leaving of another member of staff in the sales department, a lovely gentleman with a sick sense of humour and a shark-like hairdo. 

By the time Mr. Warehouse and I had arrived at the first pub of the evening my feet were soaked from the pissing rain. And so, dress clinging to my body making me look like a boobalicious washed up seal, I headed to the bathroom in order to attempt a blow dry of both myself and my clothes. Sadly to say the shoes and my hair, of which I had spent some time on, was unsalvagable. Onwards and upwards I thought. Necking my Vodka and orange, vodka supplied from my house and carried in a handbag, we headed onto the next place - A high end, extortionately priced cocktail bar, The Auction Room, away from the strip of Bedford town centre. "Alright for some," I thought, wondering how much my colleagues had been paid that day, all in the knowledge that it was another eight-days before my money would hit my account!

Getting a cheap bottle of Cider, I joined my other half and friends over on some plush sofa's whilst we sipped our drinks and made small talk. I took a moment to notice our surroundings and revelled in the fact that last time I was here I was with Mr. Cheese and company. Now I was with work colleagues, some of which looked very comfortable together. Very, very comfortable indeed! Putting it down to alcohol it wasn't until later that some of these feelings towards certain people was very much unappreciated and in a polite way, a gropingly vulgar
nuisance to both the recipient and others whose distaste for such thing in public matched my own - Shocked and outraged!

Nevertheless the evening continued and into another bar we went. Although this time it was our usual haunt! The Rose on Bedford's High Street. However this time there was no dancefloor! No DJ. No Disco. No Bumping and Grinding to be had! With several tables adorning the dancefloor area and disappointed to say the least we had one drink and then headed next door to another old favourite, a Yates! Hitting the dancefloor almost as soon as we got in there and having a good time as usual, we enjoyed being in each others company. Aside from the lack of bar staff and increasingly outrageous behaviour from some party-goers, I was having a good time. I think I had found my place for the evening - The four-person-deep bar in the background, dancefloor and lights everywhere and four Sminoff Ice for Six-Quid I had minimal complaints! Now yes, I acknowledge the fact that Sminoff Ice is something for the younger audience of a restaurant-come-bar but I am more broke than the Pigeon lady from Home Alone.

So as the moments drifted by in a hazzy-blur, I had noticed that a few faces had left in quite a rush. Where they went no-body knows but I have my suspicions?! Carrying on dancing and having a good time I noticed there was an altercation with one of the bouncers. Going over to see what was happening it was apparent my Mummy of the office (who has actually now left to go on to do bigger and better things but is still invited on nights out and so therefore still an integral part of my life) was being chucked out. Why? Because apparently she had been asked by a bouncer once before to put her heels back on as she had taken them off which was very common for my Office Mom! Having none of it the bouncer chucked her out. At that point my Office Dad stepped in to explain in his drunken slur that is was not OK to do that and treat someone that way. And then he got chucked out. The guy who was leaving stepped in at this point, equally intoxicated as the last who tried it on and again, was escorted off site. And if they went we all did. So grabbing our things we headed to the rainy streets outside, putting a downer on everything. 

But as if that wasn't enough, someone had stolen some coats belonging to Office Dad and the guy who was leaving. Becoming the mother of drunkards I took it upon myself to go back inside and look for them. Well that and the fact by this point I was the only one that wasn't barred. Coming back with nothing we continued onto the nightclub next door although with the night on such a southern turn it wasn't long before Mr. Warehouse and I called it a night. Reluctantly on my part as I still wanted to carry on, but the Boyfriends tooth was hurting him so it was probably best that we left together before I got annoyed at him for just moping in the corner. 

The rest of the weekend pretty much has been wasted browsing holidays I am not going on and begrudging the fact that I am not somewhere in Europe right now talking to you as I try not to think of my desk tomorrow. And another bank holiday is over, the longest one we get every year, Easter, is over with and I did nothing but boil in my own annoyance and ordering our new arrival to go and poo. This time next year I will be somewhere other than Bedfordshire on Easter ... Trust Me!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx