I used to order delivery food from a place that had some interesting sandwiches. But apparently they didn’t know their own menu. I once ordered the BBQ sauce and bleu cheese burger. In the description it said that it came with BBQ sauce and bleu cheese. Hence the name, the BBQ sauce and bleu cheese burger.
The person taking my order asked what I wanted on it. Since I didn’t want lettuce, tomato, or onion, I said that I didn’t want anything on it.
Silly me, I should have said that I wanted BBQ sauce and bleu cheese on my BBQ sauce and bleu cheese burger.
Did I ever tell you about the time I went to the drive thru for a Big Mac, I pay for the meal at the first window, and a Scud Missile levels the place! Not only did I not get my sandwich, the fuckers wouldn’t even refund my money, or give me a store credit. All I got was a lot of whining about “my femoral artery” and “do you see my left arm anywhere?” :rolleyes:
At least there was a BK across the street, though I really don’t like their new fries.
I know! I stopped off at Elizabeth Arden’s for some lipstick last week, and had to *step over *fly-specked orphans to get to the makeup counter. And I was wearing a pencil skirt, so it was *not *easy.
I’m pretty sure every drive-through I’ve ever seen, chain and indy both, does not allow walk-ups to the drive-through window. (Doubtless, for safety & insurance reasons.) Have you ever actually done this? Walk up to the window, I mean?
The Wendy’s near my workplace is nasty…you can smell it from the road. My office partner brought in a meal from there several months ago; I ended up finding another desk until early afternoon due to the stench.
I stopped going to Wendy’s only because I don’t like the changes they made to their burgers recently (specifically, adding mayonnaise). I could order it w/out mayo, but if I’m going to do that I’ll just go to BK and get a whopper.
McDonalds is the place that screws up my order all the time. It’s bad enough that when I order a Quarter Pounder I have to specify without cheese (which should be the default), but 20% of the time I’ll get cheese anyway.
Drive-throughs don’t allow you to walk up to order at the window. However, every time that one of them messed up one of my orders, they have allowed me to get out of my car and walk back to the window and ask them to give me the correct order. Should any drive-through fail to fix your order for whatever reason, I would suggest writing a letter to that particular outlet of that chain with a copy to the national headquarters of the chain (and perhaps also a copy to the local Better Business Bureau) informing them that they failed to do anything about a particular incident of bad service and you intend to take them to court if they don’t do something about it immediately. Never allow a business to defraud you and then just ignore it afterwards. This only encourages businesses to think that customers are willing to suffer bad service because they consider themselves worthless compared to a large, powerful company.
Back when he was alive and overseeing operations and quality, there used to be a little of founder Dave Thomas in every burger sold. Nowadays, it only tastes that way.
Funny, my Wendy’s has gotten a lot better. They no longer oversalt their fries, and their burgers now are some mix between their old and new recipes, getting the best of both.
And even having to order the burger without bun and with mayo on the side, they still don’t mess it up, at all.
I cannot fathom the pathos of the life lived by the character. Beneath the pettiness of the complaint is a self-portrait that is astoundingly depressing.
Here is a man who has so little taste he expects Wendy’s to deliver a quality meal. When the food fails to meet the ignorant criteria our hero is overwhelmed by crushing disappointment, so much so that he is compelled to tell someone about it.
The normal reaction to minor grievances, such as this, is to momentarily complain to a nearby companion. Our hero has none that will listen; no lover, no family, no room-mate, no Facebook. His loneliness is compounded by his impetuous to complain. Seeking relief, he reaches for his only source of human interaction, the Straight Dope message board.
Bravo, PSXer for crafting a modern tragic hero through experimental fictional posting.
