I moved out of the area six years ago. I still work nearby, but it's rare that I go into the shopping area in Beverly Hills for which the city is so famous. However, in an effort to lure my friend Shannon to LA to watch "Phantom of the Paradise" with me (borrowed from....wait for it....the LIBRARY!), I agreed to take her to the Cheese Store of Beverly Hills, a well-known establishment on Beverly Drive. This being my old "backyard," I didn't think today would be much of a challenge.
I was wrong.
Good news: Beverly Hills has parking garages with 2 hours of free parking. Of course, we picked the one where we had to drive all the way down to the Ninth Circle of Hell to find a spot. It's all good. We're now off on our adventure.
We walk up Beverly Drive and notice a few other places we might want to stop. But we were steadfast on our journey and walked into the revered cheese shop only to be met with......silence. No greeting, no "how can I help you?", no acknowledgement whatsoever. I'd been there before and I remembered how much the place stank like cheese. It still does. But that's not a problem. It IS a cheese store after all.....but customer service is also expected.
There were two other customers (possibly) in the store and they were together and just chatting amongst themselves. We started shopping. There were three people behind the counter. Not once did any of them address us. We browsed, noticing that none of the cheeses were labeled, but you could see the names on some of the wheels. Just no descriptions, no prices, nothing. So I pick up a wedge and ask about it; the man behind the counter (who I'm pretty sure was the owner, Norbert) tells me the name of the cheese (which I can clearly read by myself). I try to start the conversation again by asking where it's from; "France," he responds. Then.....nothing more. From no one. Not one single person behind that counter offered to help us....ever.
Cheese Store of Beverly Hills, you are fired. We are not returning.
So we walked out of there profoundly annoyed, but I then I thought it might be a corrective consumer experience to go to the Nespresso boutique bar down the street. My husband and I are Nespresso holy rollers......we discovered the machine during our honeymoon in Paris and bought one less than a year later. I drink Nespresso almost every day. We know the flavors (though I truly believe they don't vary that much) and I am an online club member. I might as well be working there, which, after this experience, I can tell they would benefit by my presence.
Now, no one was rude or snobby there; everyone was friendly and when we bypassed the cafe and headed to the retail area in the back, a very nice young man (yes, I'm old enough to say that now) approached us and started talking about the coffee options. The problem was, he knew nothing about the product. Nothing. He, in fact, knew nothing about coffee and even admitted to not being a coffee drinker. He tried to sell us products he couldn't explain, but he was so sweet and sincere, we listened and actually helped his sale pitch. I taught him what "crema" meant in the espresso world.
Then on to Crate & Barrel for a nice neutral experience. I spent the 6 months before my wedding there, playing laser tag with the items that we were adding to our registry and everyone there has always been nice, which, apparently, is a novel idea in Beverly Hills.
Now we're hungry.....so we head to a place I used to go to back when I lived in the area: M Cafe de Chaya on Brighton Way. On the way, we are ordered to walk on one side of the sidewalk by two tall douchebags on Bird scooters.....riding them on the sidewalk.
Once we arrive at M Cafe, we both ordered their Curry Udon Bowls and I got my daily iced tea. I love iced tea and prefer it unsweetened. So when I took a sip of their black iced tea and tasted literally nothing, I returned to the counter where the cashier condescendingly told me that "it's unsweetened." Yeah, duh, I know that......but there is no taste whatsoever. "May I exchange it for the green tea?" I ask. He allows me to do so and I think I'm okay from here on out, but I was wrong.
After a pretty long wait, the curry udon bowls arrive and after I give all my red peppers to Shannon and she gives me all her mushrooms, we dig in. They are delicious and just as I'm thinking I want to order these for lunch when I'm at work, I find a piece of plastic in my bowl. It looks like a wrapper for the udon noodles, and when I call over the waiter, he says that's likely what it is. I ask him to let the kitchen know and then I never see him again.
No corrective action offered. No manager, no offer of money back or comped item, nothing.
What the fuck?
We waited for a while, then I saw someone who looked like a manager. He wasn't out there to talk to me. So I beckoned him over. I told him about the plastic and this was news to him. He apologized and excused it by saying that the cooks must have dropped the udon wrapper into the bowl. Yeah, I got that. He also didn't offer any compensation of any kind. He walked away.
M Cafe de Chaya, I am also done with you.
At this point, Shannon and I were over the whole thing. We already planned to go to two more cheese stores in West LA for a more enhanced corrective cheese consumer experience, but as we descended into the Ninth Circle of Hell to get back into my car, Shannon uttered the words that most appropriately summed up the afternoon:
"Beverly Hills is cancelled!"
And off we went....westward, on our cheese quest.
