We had to drive to the next town over to sign some tax forms in order to complete our return this year. As soon as Greg got off of work at noon, we piled in the car to head out. In order to minimize the trauma of an early afternoon strapped in a car seat, we decided to take the kids for a fast food lunch. They could eat it in the car during the drive, and when they were finished could stare quizzically at and question the meaning of useless toys given to them with their meal. “But what does it DO, Daddy?” Your guess is as good as mine, kiddo.
Our little playa girl doesn’t like the meat in cheeseburgers, so we always order her a cheese sandwich with ketchup. Today was no different. Our conversation through the drive-through went something like this:
“One kids meal with a cheese sandwich, ketchup only, fries, and an apple juice.”
“So, no meat?”
“Yes, that’s correct. No meat. Just cheese and ketchup.”
I paid at the first window, thinking this was an oddly expensive trip through the drive-through, but we were in a hurry to sign our lives away at the Tax Depot, so I just paid it. I paid the guy who didn’t even respond when I said “hello” to him. I always LOVE that.
I pull up to collect our food (if that’s what you call it) and notice right away that there is an extra deluxe burger in the bag. I explain that we didn’t order that many burgers, so please take the extra one back. But the lady just looked at me like I was an idiot, because it in fact wasn’t an “extra” burger considering we had PAID FOR IT. I insisted that we did not order it, nor did we need it, so they took it back and gave me the three bucks and change I had paid for it.
Then, we drive away. Greg’s doling out food, drinks, and cheap ass toys to the kids, and I’m driving toward our tax destiny. That’s when Greg discovered Emily’s sandwich was wrong. What did we get instead of cheese and ketchup on a bun? A hamburger. No cheese. No ketchup. Just meat on a bun.
Of course we were practically back on the highway, but I did an illegal U-turn to take it back to get the right thing for our picky little eater. Greg runs in to the joint to get it corrected, assuming he’d get the right thing if he stood there and asked for it in person. Here is how his conversation went:
“This burger isn’t what we ordered. We asked for a cheese sandwich with ketchup only. No meat.”
“So, you want just cheese and ketchup. No meat.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“OK.” Then he turns to holler the order to someone else, who in turn repeats the correct order request back to him.
Greg gets back to the car with a new sandwich in a bag. He opens it up to give it to Emily, and what do we get THIS TIME? A cheeseburger with ketchup. Holy McMorons, REALLY? At least he could peel off the meat and leave the cheese with this burger flub. He turned to Emily and said, “Here’s the right sandwich, Emily, because I MADE IT.”
Golden arches? More like golden pain in the ass.