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| - In the words of today's teenager: 'I can't even.'
After a fail attempt at getting a table at Marcello's, my boyfriend's sister suggested Wild Wing as an alternative given it was within the same plaza. With a communal indifference to the dinner option after our blunder, we agreed. The warning sign should have been how empty the restaurant was with a single patron sitting at the back of the restaurant working vigilantly on her computer and nursing a beer. The lone waitress didn't greet us, didn't nod an acknowledgment and didn't seem to give a rat's that we were there. Despite this, after deciding on a table, we sat ourselves down and patiently waited for the lone ranger to wander over. 10 minutes later, she strolled over and handed us three menus with a half assed greeting.
Now, it's a no brainer: you come to a chicken wing place, you get something chicken related. However, I'm weird about touching my food and without fail, will always vote for the boneless option. So, you can imagine the gut sinking feeling when the waitress reappeared 15 minutes later and she advised they were out of the boneless option.
(Why it would take 15 minutes to flip through the three page menu, [one of which consists of wing flavours to decide] in order for you to draw the conclusion that A: You want chicken. B: You want it in some variety, or C: You like to play on the wild side (see what I did there?) and stray away from the traditional by getting a burger.) (You daredevil, you.)
Fine: I will meet your lack of boneless option and go with the chicken fingers.
I should have taken the no boneless option as my third warning to run while I still I had a chance.
Upon the waitresses arrival, we were greeted by plastic plates (why on earth any establishment would be serving their meals on plastic plates purchased at their local Dollarama is absolutely BEYOND ME) and quite possibly the soggiest, stalest tasting nachos. The salsa tasted rancid, and the lettuce was wilted. Upon the arrival of my entree I encountered what appeared to look like it had come straight out of a Hungry Man frozen dinner... the chicken fingers smelled off... like they'd been sitting in the back of the fridge. I was feeling ballsy, so I took a bite... I wasn't convinced. My boyfriend's GarPar chicken wings followed suit, and they were bland tasting.
20 minutes later when our waitress arrived to do a very delayed quality control check, she asked how everything was tasting. I explained to her the lack lustre experience I was having with my meal, she stared at me blankly as she asked me several times to describe how they tasted...they tasted freezer burned...they tasted off...how many other ways did I need to find in order to describe this? "Do you want another meal made?" No, I want to get out of here as quickly as possible...instead I asked for some more sour cream...I should have anticipated that upon her return, the sour cream would be extremely watery and very off in texture. An elderly couple helplessly attempted to flag down our waitress whom she ignored several times before the poor woman with an evident bad hip hobbled over to her requesting her attention. Given the destitute of people within the restaurant, it was easy enough to hear the woman explain that her chicken...well...it didn't taste like chicken. The waitress feigned surprise before asking: "Does it taste like freezer burn?" "Yes!"
FACE PALM.
When my boyfriend went up to settle the bill, he was started to find my meal on the bill. Upon asking if she could do something with it given my circumstances, she sighed heavily and said she'd have to consult with the kitchen staff. She returned two minutes later and said: "I can give you 15% off." My boyfriend now agitated by this response rebuttled that I hadn't even consumed even half of my meal." "Well, she ate the fries, right? I'll just charge her for those." $4.99 on cardboard French fries later... and we were racing for the door with a mutual agreement to never return again.
Wild Wing, there is a reason why a number of your establishments are closing, it's only a matter of time before you, your crappy chicken and plastic china at this location follow.
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