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I suspect that for the American reader, this may read like a review of tap water, but for the benefit of others, I will objectively review Friendlys. This particular Friendlys is right next door to the Best Western, a 2-minute slow walk. It opens its doors at 7am, but with the All You Can Eats around, it doesn’t seem to do so much of a roaring trade. This is a pity, because if you add your tax and drink on to the $3.99 all-you-can eat at the Ponderosa, for instance (the trough of choice for many, no doubt because of its kids-for-free discount offers), the prices charged at Friendlys for something you may actually want, cooked-to-order,...well, there’s not much to pick between them.
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I suspect that for the American reader, this may read like a review of tap water, but for the benefit of others, I will objectively review Friendlys.
This particular Friendlys is right next door to the Best Western, a 2-minute slow walk. It opens its doors at 7am, but with the All You Can Eats around, it doesn’t seem to do so much of a roaring trade. This is a pity, because if you add your tax and drink on to the $3.99 all-you-can eat at the Ponderosa, for instance (the trough of choice for many, no doubt because of its kids-for-free discount offers), the prices charged at Friendlys for something you may actually want, cooked-to-order,...well, there’s not much to pick between them.
Breakfast choices are varied and calorific--everything on I-Drive is. A couple of days I had a toasted bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich with home fries for about $6, which was good. A plate of three good-sized pancakes and syrup is $5. Coffee is nothing to scream about. In the evening, again, the un-discounted prices are competitive. A plate of sirloin tips, rice, and vegetables.
The piece de resistance of this franchise, however, appears to be the sundae. Approaching middle-age as I am and desperate to get there on the right side of 85kg, I watched creatures less calorie-conscious than I demolishing the most delicious-looking $5-ish ice-cream creations. Most of them may well be dead by now, but the sundaes did look good.
One curiosity is their preference for seating you at a table of their own choosing. We walked in one day to find that we were one of only two or three parties in the place, were greeted, and led to a table in the middle of the room. "Oh, can we sit over there next to the window?" I innocently inquired. The waitress paused for a moment and looked at me. I think I was supposed to say, "Oh, but if it's too much trouble, it's OK," but I stood my ground. Eventually there was a shrug, "You see I’ve already allocated you a table on the roster, your server is allocated by the table you sit at, and you should be Bernard’s. Bernard doesn’t serve on that table and it's his turn." Again, I was supposed to say, "Oh, I understand, it's OK, we’ll sit here"--BUT I WANTED TO LOOK OUT OF THE WINDOW. After another painful pause, there was a shrug and we were taken back to the front desk to watch the roster being changed. I think we were meant to feel some shame, and then we were seated at a window table. We were served by a Marion, not Bernard. We were, however, allowed/forced to witness the exaggerated explanation to Bernard, who was looking none-too-impressed with the situation.
So, to summarise, America once exported customer care to the world, but has it forgotten to keep some back for itself?
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