If you haven’t noticed already, I tend to write up favorable restaurant reviews. This is because I haven’t really eaten at a place that was completely heinous. This week, however, I found a place with the worst service in the entire world. I’m talking about Ruby Tuesday’s, in the Trumbull Mall.
Let me start by stating the facts (yes, I know this is a food review and not a crime report.) There were a total of four of us who went to eat. Only two meals were ordered, and one of us chose to help ourselves to the salad bar. So why in the world did it take us practically two hours to get out of there?
The inattentive waitress, perhaps. Not only was she (barely) waiting on tables, but she was also working the bar. However, I can’t just place the blame solely on the horrible waitress, she couldn’t bring out what wasn’t made. Don’t ask how a couple of meals could take forever to make, the restaurant wasn’t even crowded.
What else could be worse than slow service? Uh, rude service. One of us ordered a dinner to go, when we first got there. The waitress brought it out slightly later, but far from the time when we left. Needless to say, the dinner was ice cold before we left the restaurant. When we asked the man who sat us if we could possibly order a warm meal to go, he told us he’d tell the chef right away to cook us up a new dinner. Did he? Of course not. The waitress just came over and, quite rudely, asked us what was going on.
Topping off the rude service was dessert that came with a surprise. No, nothing really gross, just a piece of plastic. We sent it back and got the hell out of there, before we had to be there a minute longer.
I’m not going to bother going into detail about the food, because you’ll never want to go there. The food isn’t cheap, and it’s very greasy and quite fattening. If you’re at the mall and you’re hungry, I highly recommend going to the food court…or starve.
The bottom line? Don’t go there ever! It’s not worth the lengthy drive to the mall. Not to mention that you have to show identification to prove that you are 21 years of age simply to sit in the smoking area—I’ve never heard of such a thing. I’d recommend changing their name from “Ruby Tuesday’s” to “Ruby I Ordered My Food This Tuesday and I Got it Next Tuesday.”
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