One of the nicest men in Northfield is tucked away in the kitchen at Quality Bakery, making first-rate baked goods. He comes out front once in awhile, in flour-covered baker's whites, to refill his coffee cup and greet customers. I love his creations at QB so much that I've learned to put up with the weird customer service. I think all at QB are good people who work hard and support the community. But for the life of me I can't figure out why they don't understand that picking out fabulous doughnuts is half the pleasure of the visit! Their impatience with my indecision is never well-concealed. This morning I was waited on by a young staffer who already has his own brand of weird customer service. I started making my choices, but he just looked at me, waiting for me to choose more. Was he getting a read on what size bag to get out or whether it was going to call for a box? Why didn't he ask how many I was getting? Was he trying to impress me with his powers of recall? The only thing that impresses me is if you get my order right. I got home and two of the doughnuts I asked for were not in the bag. Lose/lose. I didn't get all my doughnuts; they didn't make a bigger sale. Was I charged for them? I'll never know. This is all the fuss I'm going to make about it. Hey, here's an idea from the Mexican bakeries: Put items chosen on a small tray or pizza pan until we say, "That's it!" Then you'll know what size packaging to use. QB, I love you, but why do you make it so hard?
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