Saturday, January 19, 2008

Just call me Mr. Chocolate Frozen Custard

I had a startling experience yesterday at the local Andy's Frozen Custard.
I admit I go there too often for my own good, since the stuff is insanely rich and probably loaded with fat. But it's been more than a week since my last visit and, since I was in the neighborhood...
I went through the drive-through and ordered my usual large cup of chocolate, handing the girl a $5 bill. In the meantime, a young guy back in the serving area scooped out my cup of chocolate.
While the cashier was still counting change - remember this was a cash transaction, not a credit card deal where they would have my card bearing my name - the scooper guy sticks a plastic spoon in the cup, wraps the cup in a napkin and hands it out the window.
"Here you go, Mr. Flora," he said.
Huh?
Holy crap! I've been going there often enough that they know my name?
I already knew they were observant, because they remembered the times I've been there on a motorcycle and made motorcycle-related remarks when I'd go through the drive-through in my car on pleasant days. And they know I always get a large cup of chocolate.
But remembering my name, presumably from previous credit card transactions is, well, somewhere between flattering and creepy.
I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and consider it extreme customer awareness and friendliness.
Unless I notice them following me around.

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