I woke up today and drove to get coffee. My sunday treat, a 20 minute crawl to the edge of WeHo for a mocha from Verve. I get two. “to make it worth the trip.” While I sat sipping my coffee on the side of the road, I suddenly had a craving for fougasse. I probably haven’t had any for… maybe 5 years? Maybe longer. After two hours of searching, I finally found a spot in LA, at Platform, that sells it. Dreading a pointless drive, I confirmed several times with John that I was reading it right. Decided to call ahead and check, which proved fruitless, because after repeating myself several times, the bewildered clerk who answered my call said “Sorry I can’t hear you.” Decided to risk at and make another 30 minute drive.
When I got to Platform I stopped in at Monocle for the latest issue, and quickly got annoyed with the other shoppers. Platform is a special blend of LA entitlement, Brooklyn posturing, and high school loitering that has so far made every visit absolutely blood-boiling. People walk right into you as they pose midstride for a instagram post to show off their boba tea. Moms scowl at you after they’ve rammed their $1,200 Cybex stroller into your cafe table while digging around in their purse. Dozens of extremely annoyed delivery drivers crowd over-extended eatery kiosk doorways waiting for orders promised ready-for-pickup that have yet to be started. Platform does, however, deliver on having one of kind shops, often the only spot within an hours drive to fetch the hyper-specific goods a modern idiot like myself desires.
I got to Bianca, went to the bakery counter, and tried to find the fougasse, but seeing it nowhere. Peering into the kitchen area, I saw a large loaf of what looked like fougasse, but wanting to avoid the predictably fruitless exchange with an adamantly helpless* clerk in person, decided to try the phone again. Went outside to the bench, called Bianca again and asked after the fougasse. “The fugazzetta pizza?” “No, it’s like a French bread” “Oh, we do have baguettes!” “Oh, sur — sorry, do you have fougasse? not baguette.” “Uh… if you’re looking for French bread we have it.” I’m watching the clerk take my call from outside the restaurant, and can see their patience evaporate and their confusion plain. Frustrated, I have an idea to simply order the fougasse listed on their menu on Postmates, and just set it for pick-up. It’s $12, but I order two, again “to make it worth the trip,” and sit down to wait. 5 minutes later my phone chirps, a text message from Postmates: “sorry, one of the items you ordered isn’t available. Please make another selection.” I text John the screenshot, insane with frustration. I’m about to leave when I see that same massive fougasse-like loaf in the window. I walk into the restaurant, and flag down a clerk. He’s busy, so he sends over… the same clerk I just spoke to on the phone. “Hey, can you tell me what this bread in the window is?” “Oh it’s… I can’t remember what it’s called, but it has like garlic and onion in it?” “Great, yes, can I get some? How much is the loaf.” She retrieves the bread, and punches it into the computer. “It’s called… fougasse? it’s $10 for the loaf, or I can weigh a slice out.”
I took the whole thing, and left absolutely baffled.
*This is one of my biggest frustrations today, and I fully understand this is pushing me firmly into “back in my day” territory, but. When I worked in the mall where I was constantly beset by random requests from strangers who had no idea how to articulate what they want, my attitude was nevertheless one of ‘I’m sure I can figure this out.’ By which I mean that when approached with baffling requests or confused patrons, my posture towards them was one of an intent-to-help.
More and more I encounter customer service that seems to be adamantly helpless. I.e I can tell often before I even begin my question that the clerk has decided there’s nothing they can do. They reflexively respond in the negative before they’ve even considered what I’m asking. In some cases I have had to repeat my question with a tone of overt incredulity before I watch the clerk literalyl snap out of it and realize “oh wait. I can do that.” or “oh wait, we do have those.” It makes me feel like an absolute ass, because I know they’re probably replying out of a practiced response to terrible customers making insane requests, but that’s really NOT ever what I’m doing, I promise.
I’m three weeks into my new job, and absolutely loving it. It’s… insane how different it is working at a company where things are fully-functional, fully staffed by competent people who know how to do their job. It’s been very weird starting at a new spot during a quarantine: I have never met anyone I work with. I have no idea how tall anyone is. But, it’s remarkable how much stress has totally evaporated — heavy friction suddenly gone, like suddenly finding yourself swimming with the current, after spending years fighting up stream.