Confessions of a Secret Shopper

Over the years, I have joined several internet groups that reward me for answering surveys online. I have earned some Worldperks miles, “Border’s Bucks,” and a few free magazine subscriptions. There is nothing lucrative about doing it, but the surveys are usually short, and are almost always interesting. While reading a message board a few weeks ago, I came across an opportunity for a secret shopper-type job that would reimburse me for dining at a particular restaurant in return for my honest opinion about the food and service. They were fairly strict in their requirements, including asking me to jot down the time whenever the server came and went from our table, and the conditions of the bathrooms and parking lot. Among other things. Jim, Adam, Jacob, and I, plus Nancy and Richie, went to the restaurant on Thursday. Unfortunately, our waitress was not having a good night. She seldom checked back with us, and left piles of appetizer plates on the table the whole time we were there. (Evidently, dirty dishes on the table are a big no-no in the restaurant world.) The prices were also expensive compared to the types of places we are used to eating at - and we all know how Jim feels about things like that. On a happy note, however, the food was absolutely delicious. In addition, Jacob was quite delighted with the whole concept, feeling both sneaky and important. He claimed that he felt just like “Gene Scallop,” the famous Bikini Bottom food critic who inspected the Krusty Krab on an episode of Spongebob. He even tucked his napkin into the collar of his shirt like Gene Scallop. Jacob took his role in the outing very seriously, and, once again, I witnessed what too much television can do to a kid. Anyway, later that night I answered all of the queries on the lengthy online questionnaire, and someone from the company phoned me on Friday for a follow-up interview. I have mixed emotions about the experience. I was sorry that I could not give the server a very decent rating, but I did point out that she seemed somewhat distracted by another group of diners that evening. Well, I think I'd rather just stick to racking up frequent flyer miles instead of this secret diner stuff. Now I'll sit back and wait to see if a check really arrives in the mail to refund my yummy - albeit overpriced - chicken.