I mention a lot of cool eating and drinking establishments and shops on these pages. Everyone from Caprice and Miss K, to Vida e, Butlers and Woolworths. There is a reason for that; I’ve bought into their brands and I feel it is safe for you to do so as well. They are brands that I trust and I’m happy to work with them because of their attention to detail, level of service and quality. And, as long as that is maintained I will continue to do so. They look after me, sure, but that gives you instant recourse. Everybody knows that.

Every now and then I’ll veer off and try other brands and, if they adhere to these basics, I’ll keep using them. Hell, I’ll even give them a second chance.

Or a third (and final) chance, as was the case with Primi Piatti in Camps Bay, who proudly advertise that they will deliver anywhere in Camps Bay, at no charge.

 

 

I decided to treat The Muse to some lamb chops at The Safe House about a week ago and gave them a tinkle. I thought I had a crossed line with someone in Iraq, as the noise was so loud I could have sworn I heard gunfire. The guy was SCREECHING down the line.

“HELLOOOO!!!!!!!!” shrieked the orange oompah loompah.

“Hi, yes, hello there. I’d like to order some chops for delivery please”

“WHAT!!!???” came the desperate sound of a man dying.

“Are you ok?” I asked, worried for the man.

“WHAT????!!!!” he screamed.

I covered the mouth piece of my phone – “This might end in tears,”I informed The Muse as she winced, noticing my “Moer Meter” going up.

“I WANT TO ORDER SOME LAMB CHOPS FOR DELIVERY!!!!”

“Ok”

“Ok?”

“Yes, LAMB CHOPS?!?! You want LAMB CHOPS?”

“Yes!!!!”

“Ok!!!”

“Cool, is that it? Don’t you want my address??”

“Ok!”

“Ok?”

“Yes, give your address!” (he was in the tank now. Taking the call from a satellite phone INSIDE a tank, in a war)

(they were losing, by the way)

I gave the address. Several times.

“OK!”

“Ok?”

“Yes, we see you now!”

“Don’t you want a credit card number?”

“Ok!”

“Ok?”

“Ok!”

I gave the number. Every four numbers I read out he just said “yes.” It was quite clear that he was trying to remember the card number in his head and wasn’t writing anything down. Jesus, I don’t even do that, and I can recite pi to 75 decimal places.

Surely this wasn’t REALLY happening? Surely I was being Punk’d?

“Can you read that out to me?” I asked, as The Muse tried to remove the knife that I was holding to my throat.

“Can I call the manager?” he asked.

“THE MANAGER!?!?!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? DID YOU WRITE THE NUMBER DOWN OR NOT?”

“Hold on…”

Oh my sweet fuck, I couldn’t believe what was happening.

The manager came on and took the number down, as well as directions.

An hour went by.

They called. They got lost. I gave the directions again.

They arrived half an hour later.

And at R120 PER PORTION of teensie weensie lamb chops, which were so rich I could have started a hedge fund, I just don’t think it was worth it.

I felt violated.

Seriously, guys, don’t say that you can do something when you can’t. There’s a word I use for that – it’s called “a lie.” Either you train your staff properly to handle it, or leave it completely.

And that, my friends, is the end of it. That was the last time I will order R120 a portion lamb chops for delivery from Primi Piatti Camps Bay . The previous two deliveries failed as a result of pretty much the same thing, only more watered down. The result was the same. Unsatisfied..

Such a pity.

When all you want is a good portion of chops to arrive at your door.

God! It’s so tiresome!

CLICK HERE to view HelloPeter’s almost daily list of Primi Piatti complaints.