(Before I start: Again, I seem to be back in the habit of a post or two a day. If you haven't been in a while, scroll on down. You might have missed something. Like, say, for example, my next dinner. You coming? Bringing friends? Let me know via email or phone at 602-222-4275.)
ANyway, so after I made a round of phone calls sending invites for my dinner, I figured I'd spin by Rally's down there by the airport and grab some tasty burgers on my way home. I pull up to the drivethru speaker, and I get the standard, "*CKSHHH!* welcometorally'swouldyouliketotryacombomealtoday."
Now, I always wait a couple of seconds, because I KNOW that, hard as they may try, only the very best drive-thru attendants can memorze my order as they walk across to the register. Now, granted, not everyone is like that, but the majority of them will be standing twenty feet away from the register, and more often than not engaged in conversation. This is particularly bad at Taco Bell, where it plays an automatic greeting when you pull up.
So I wait, then I carefully begin, "Hi, I'd like to get three Rallyburgers (their little 99¢ jobs) with no lettuce and no onions. I'd" --
"That it?" (WHAT? "That it?" Whatever happened to "Anything else?" I thought you were supposed to suggest me ordering more, which I fully intended to do anyway.)
"Um, no, I wasn't done. I'd--"
"That'll be $4.38 at the window."
"I wasn't done yet." Note: getting mildly perturbed.
"Oh. Sorry. What else?"
"Okay, I also want a Honey-Grilled Chicken sandwich with no lettuce, and an order of onion rings, and a large Diet Coke." (Yeah, hah hah hah, Diet Coke at a burger joint. Trust me, I've heard it before. I don't like sweet soda in any way, shape or form. And besides, I'm somewhat diabetic anyway.)
"We don't have no onion rings. Sorry."
Uggh. So I squint at the menu, and sure enough, it says, Beer Battered Onions. "Um... the Beer Battered Onions?"
"Oh, those. Those are actually, like, onion petals."
Well, frickin' DUH. All right, to split hairs, she had me. "Okay, I'll take an order of those."
"Okay, so I got... three Rallyburgers, one Honey-Grilled Chicken sandwich without no lettuce (sic), a large Coke and an order of onion petals. That it?"
As I cringed at That it? again, I said, "Uh, the Rallyburgers are no lettuce and no onion. And it's a Diet Coke." So, yeah, we weren't exactly listening to my order when we first started. That never fails to irk me. Note: irked. Somewhat past "mildly perturbed."
"*beep beep beep beep* Okay, I got it. No lettuce and no onion on the burgers and a Diet Coke. That'll be $9.21 at the window."
As I pull my already-sunburning face back in the truck and zip around, I realize I have... two $1 bills in my wallet. Huh. Now I'd been to this particular Rally's before, and I could swear they took credit. Guess what...?
"Hi. $9.21. ... Oooh, sorry, we don't take nothing but cash here."
I tried not to roll my eyes too hard; this one was apparently my fault. "Oh, seriously? I could have sworn I used it here a couple of months ago...?"
"Nope. I been working here like 3 years and we ain't never took cards." (sic... again)
I note the Exxon right next door. "All right... That's my fault. Tell you what. I'll be right back. Let me go hit the ATM." So I buzzed around the corner, pulled out a Jackson, and swung back into Rally's. Noted that no one had walked up or driven in during the 5 minutes I spent next door. So I pay, and she hands me my drink. Um, no straw. Okay, it'll be in the bag, like they sometimes do. I won't ask.
Now, I SEE the assistant behind her wrapping up what I'm assuming is my food, since there hasn't been ANYONE else there in 10 minutes. It appears all my burgers are lettuce-free (lettuce, of course, being the flora of the Underworld), at least which of them I can see. Plus one for them, I figure.
Note here that the order taker is taking no part in helping the assistant prepare these burgers. Health reasons? I don't know. She just stands there in the window watching her partner work. She wraps, folds, stuffs into bag, and then when the Fryolator starts screaming, the assistant goes over and takes care of my onion not-rings, too. The de facto head chef simply takes the full bag from her lackey and hands it to me, with enough napkins to make a treehugger weep. "Have a nice day," she sort of squeezes out, though I know she's tired of me. *SHUNK!* goes the window.
Now, I don't want to be the grouchy old guy who opens everything in the bag and checks it right there in the lane, even though there was STILL no one behind me. So I do a quick head count: four burger-like things and a box that reeks of onion. And my drink, and my -- "DAMMIT!"
So I politely tap on the window. Once. Wait. Again. Wait. Again. Finally, *SHUNK!* "Yeah?"
"Straw?"
"Oh." She grabs THREE. "Here you go." *SHUNK!*
All right. Note: halfway pissed. What, like it was MY g'd' fault she forgot it in the first place? This was one of the few times I contemplated calling the "Questions?" 800 number on the receipt. I in fact had my phone out as I rounded the corner, but I decided against it. Ehh. Nothing would probably come of it anyway.
So I get home, drop the bag, take care of business in the lavatory, and then sit on the couch to eat. Unwrap the chicken. Clean. Unwrap the burgers. Clean. Clean. -- "What the f---?!"
The third one is SLATHERED with shredded lettuce and diced onions!! I mean, SERIOUSLY!! At least at Wendy's, it's a leaf and a ring or two if they screw it up.. Now, it could only be one of two things. (1) Assistant chef was so stupid and/or absentminded that she FORGOT what she was making halfway through it. The receipt clearly says "3 NO LETTUCE 3 NO ONION." This is somewhat possible. I mean, get to the third burger, totally forget what you just put on the last one 10 seconds ago? I'll buy that. But the conspiracy theorist in me wants to think that (2) they did it to spite me. Nah, maybe not.
At least they didn't spit on my burgers.
Editor's note: Another post for today follows this one.
No comments:
Post a Comment