I am not a huge fan of fast food; to be more precise, I really don’t like it at all. I see fast food like most people see old newspapers... something to fill an empty spot. Hence, I’ll avoid those places like my cat avoids the neighbor’s dog. There are only a few things about them, I can’t seem to develop a taste for; the flavor, the texture, the smell, mass production, the service�?Have I missed anything? One afternoon I left my house at about 4 PM; I had to be at my sister’s by 4:30 and it was a 45-minute drive. I had to eat something though, so I took a big chance and pulled into the Taco King on the way. I figured I’d just order a meat-and-bean burrito. I mean, how could they ruin that? (Ah yes, how indeed? Envelope please!)
I stood in a roped line that snaked back and forth where 16 of us waited for six cash registers�?and only two cashiers. As I neared the front of the line there was a young woman in line behind me with a four-year-old rug rat, on the floor playing with a toy truck. Apparently he didn’t want this truck, too much anyhow, because he kept slamming it into the back of my boot. I turned and glared at him with a look that said, I had all the intention of crushing this toy under my boot�?and his mother glared back. Just as I heard someone say, “Next, Please.�?nbsp; Mom piped up, “Your turn a** hole!�?/FONT>
I walked up to a girl, that looked to be about 19, wearing a badge on her shirt, (that was straining to cover her, what I guessed to be, surgically enhanced breasts), that said “Wendy�?on it. She had more holes in her right ear than a wheel of Swiss cheese and a dazzling, naïve smile. If one could get past the façade to notice her face that is.
“Good morning.�?She giggled. (Morning?) “Welcome to Wendy King. My name is Taco, how may I help�?you.�?/FONT>
(“Here we go.�? I thought to myself. I could feel this one coming. I let out a short laugh that was somewhere between a bark and a hiccup�?and there was no humor in it.
She restarted. (Giggle, giggle) “I mean…�?/FONT>
I cut her off, “I know what you mean Wendy, don’t try, okay?�?nbsp; I leaned on the counter and, with the most sincere smile I could muster, said, “Look, Wendy, all I want is a combination meat-and-bean burrito. No drink, nothing else, just the burrito.�?/FONT>
Her fingers hovered over the cash register like a humming bird, that wasn’t too awfully sure about the flower in front of it. “What’s that?�?she whispered.
“It’s ground meat and refried beans wrapped up in a flour tortilla.�?nbsp; I answered.
The hand still waved over the key board, she turned and looked at the menu, “Yeah, but what one is it?�?nbsp;
“I saw the tote board, Wendy. I don’t want a combo plate or a meal, all I want is a burrito.�?/FONT>
Another young girl appeared, not much older than Wendy, and smugly announced, “Hello, I’m Mercedes, the night manager. May I be of assistance?�?/FONT>
Yeah, and she was built like one too! I resisted the temptation to ask what her last name was. With high hopes, though, I explained the situation to her. My hopes were much too high.
“I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to order from our menu board and just give her the number below the meal of your choice.�?/FONT>
With a disgusted sigh, I said, “Fine! Give me a number four meal…�?/FONT>
Wendy perked up and hit the key, “Yes sir!�?(Giggle, giggle.)
As Mercedes started to leave I finished, “Without the drink, no cinnamon sticks, no cheese, no onions, lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream or guacamole.�?/FONT>
Mercedes turned, “Sir�?�?/FONT>
“What now!�?nbsp; I demanded.
“There is no need to be so grass sir.�?nbsp; Mercedes huffed.
I stared at her in confusion and scratched at my jaw, “Excuse me�?grass?�?/FONT>
“Certainly you know what grass is; rude, undignified.�?nbsp; She replied with an air of one-upmanship.
I waved my hand in front of me, as if to shoo a gnat, giving a poor imitation of Johnny Depp’s pirate, Jack Sparrow. I must’ve looked totally dumbfounded; I know I felt that way.
“HEY!�?nbsp; I turned to see who yelled. It was mom with her trucker brat, sneering at me. “Would you choose something? You’re holding up the f***ing line!!!�?nbsp; (Nice talk mom.)
I was turning my head like a bobble-head doll, from Wendy to Mercedes to mom and back around again. When I spoke, it was to Wendy. “I’m sorry, I seemed to have lost my appetite.�?nbsp; At that statement, mom and brat pushed their way in front of me.
I turned to leave but, before I reached the door Mercedes called out, “You could at least leave a tip sir!�?/FONT>
I stopped dead. I was astounded; I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Without turning around I asked, “For what?�?/FONT>
“For the exemplary service of course.�?/FONT>
I bit my tongue, I dared not respond. I couldn’t respond. As I pushed my way through the door I decided that a bologna sandwich, at my sister’s, sounded pretty good.
Free Forum Hosting
Important Announcement
