Earlier today my department supervisor came around asking for volunteers to work 4 extra hours, so I said I could. At 6:30 everyone who was staying late took off to grab some dinner. I went to the local Burger King to get a Big Fish meal with onion rings. Before I pulled out into the street, I saw that they gave me fries instead. There was what appeared to be a mixed gender high school soccer team running around the parking lot, so I had to manuver around them into a spot before I could head inside. Once there, they just handed me a box of onion rings and said I could keep the fries, so I thought I was all set. Little did I know the horror that awaited.
I got back to my desk and opened the little cup of onion ring sauce. The normal sauce is something like thousand island dressing with horseradish mixed in - I’m not entirely sure, but it’s good. Apparently this batch of sauce was retrieved from a warehouse in New Orleans or something, because it was quite curdled and nasty looking. It smelled OK, but I really didn’t feel like tasting it. Hesitantly I nibbled on an onion ring, but soon discovered that it was free from corruption. I gave away my fries, thinking that I had enough food. How foolish of me.
Once I polished off the onion rings and a few stray fries, I unwrapped the Big Fish, noting the attempt at humor written on the wrapper. Perhaps this was some sort of attempt at distracting me from the subtle wrongness of the sandwich contained within. I looked at the deep fried object nestled between the buns and cloaked with tartar sauce and shredded lettuce. This object seemed too dark and irregularly shaped to be a slab of breaded fish, but my hunger got the better of me and I ventured a bite.
“What the fuck?!”
I examined the bite crater and combined the visual data with that collected from the act of chewing.
“Chicken! Those fuckers put chicken in my fuckin’ Big Fish! Goddammit!”
I tried another bite, but chicken with tartar sauce is just too damn gross. One of the guys suggested that I wipe off the tartar sauce with a napkin, but I wasn’t that hungry. For the rest of the night I was fueled not by food, but by anger. I was testing a golf game, and I beat the shit out of that ball, let me tell you. Got my golfer’s power stats pretty high, too.
That’s what I thought about salsa and fish, and that combo when tried makes you sick to your stomach.
Eclectic food doesn’t work sometimes, or chocolate cake, salsa, pepperoni, steak, and mashed potatoes pizza would have taken the market by storm by now.
I’ve avoided the usual fast-food places like a plague for awhile now, partly for just this reason,
partly to lose weight. The food, even if you “got” what you ordered (and indeed I often got
the fish), is either nauseating going down, or causes indigestion 6 hours later. Either way I’m
done with it.
They fuck you particularly hard at drivethrough’s by the interstate. No matter what you order, they give you whatever is about to go bad. What are you going to do? Turn the car around?
If so, you must be under 20 years old. Joe Pesci OWNS that line. He could kick Jason Mewes’ punk ass all over the sidewalk.
They really do fuck you at the drivethrough, though. You always always gotta pull forward so the next guy can pull up, then check the bag. Always. Saves gas, saves lives.
Age 44, actually. Sorry- but I’ve missed a lot of Pesci films (I think MY COUSIN VINNIE is the only one I’ve seen). I do agree about a Pesci>Mewes beatdown,
and about drivethrough fuckery.
Which is why I always count the cartons of fries, taste the drinks if I didn’t draw them myself, lift the top bun of the sandwiches, and count my change, before leaving the establishment. And it’s not too late after you’ve pulled forward, either.
Sorry; I just always get so :rolleyes: with people who say, “Well, I ordered a sandwich with no onions, because onions give me heart palpitations and hives, and I absolutely cannot consume them under any circumstances, and when I got back to the office, ten miles away, I found ONIONS on my burger!” You have to check when you can still do something about it. If it’s that important to you, don’t take chances. And it’s way important to me, so I don’t take chances.
I also get fed up with the attitude that “Well, they’re McDonald’s workers! They don’t care!” Yeah, and with that attitude, they’ll be working at McD’s their whole life. Has a lot to do with management, I think. During my McD’s stint, the managers did not allow us to low-ball special orders; consequently, we got very few complaints. Also, if someone is planning on moving up from McD’s, no reason not to start applying a good work ethic while they’re young.
