Firehouse Subs Forsyth Rd. — Restaurant in Macon

I have come to this location since it opened. I have never had an issue with customer service until the last 6 months or so. The workers constantly seem so bothered to encounter a customer, seem inconvenienced at the slightest request, and make me want to never eat at this location again. I visited tonight to get a pickup order from the app. Everything was fine until when I received my sandwich and asked “do you have any Italian dressing?” The worker replied with a prompt and cold “no.” I asked her “Really?” to which she pointed to the mayo and mustard packets on the counter and told me they only had those sauces. I said “normally, they give it to me from behind the counter in a small cup.” The lady told me I would have to wait until she took another customer’s order before she could get that for me. So I wait patiently as she takes another person’s order. She comes and hands the dressing cup to me after mumbling with the other female employee working. She tells me that I should have put that in on the app when I ordered. I told her I absolutely would have done that but there was no place to ask for a sauce on the side. The workers at this location ignore customers when they enter, never smile, and speak so rudely to customers. I have continued to go back after less than desirable experiences over and over. What a shame it is to see this location deteriorate so. I hope the owners can see this feedback and look into the type of people they are hiring. This place needs some serious attention or it will certainly close due to lack of...

Worst firehouse location I’ve ever visited and both times it was the same rude employees but this time was so bad I thought there were hidden cameras there and maybe someone would pop out and say haha only joking! But no. It’s two young women both extremely rude and felt like they were challenging us to “talk back” or change our order. We ordered online and it was already paid for but they still made us wait until they had served everyone in line and kept eyeing us while doing it. One sandwich was the Hawaiian which comes with slaw. When she handed the bags to us she said they didn’t put the slaw on it. The slaw is what makes the sandwich good. They weren’t out of the ingredients; she said they just didn’t feel like making a whole batch of slaw just for a sandwich!!! She didn’t offer a refund or another sandwich either. My friend was too polite to ask and was actually being nice to this jerk. She was being so nasty it felt like we were bothering her for just being there and she was treating everyone like that. The other employee didn’t speak or even look up one time. When we got home and I started eating, I noticed that my sandwich was wrong. So basically we ordered two sandwiches and neither one was worth eating. I had one bite and it was smothered in mayo, the bread was soggy and I asked for NO mustard but it was covered in it so I just threw it away. The other one was thrown away as well. We both decided we would never go to this location again. Maybe they should be more cautious next time they hire...

“A Pickup, a Letdown”

It began, as many modern tragedies do, with an online order.

I selected chicken dumpling soup—clearly, deliberately, perhaps even ceremoniously. There is an intimacy to such a choice, a silent whisper to the universe: Today, I seek warmth. I seek comfort. I seek dumplings.

The app confirmed. My soul stirred. I made the journey, modest in distance but great in expectation, to retrieve what I believed would be a bowl of memory and meaning.

The bag was handed to me without fanfare. A polite smile. A “Have a nice day.” I should have known. No one ever says that before a heartbreak.

Home. Table. Lid off.

Chicken. Noodle. Soup.

It stared up at me, soulless and smug, like a cruel joke told in poor taste. The dumplings were absent—exiled, forgotten, or perhaps never even considered. Instead, I was met with thin noodles and flavorless broth, the culinary equivalent of an apology no one means.

The receipt mocked me. Chicken dumpling soup, it read. Digital proof that the universe once had intentions of kindness.

But what is proof when the dumplings are gone?

I didn’t return it. I didn’t call. I simply ate in silence, each spoonful a reminder: convenience can’t replace care, and even when you order correctly, life may still hand you the wrong...