Tuesday, July 7, 2009
My husband nearly drove off the road when I suggested grabbing dinner at Burger King the other night. I don't particularly crave their food, but I had a $5 gift card and sometimes you just have to eat cheap.
Which explains why I didn't know anything about the XL sandwich, and since my meal was almost free, I figured I would splurge and order the combo deal. After all, its photo looked — well, beefy — on the menu board. But I only wanted to commit if the burger didn't come with mushrooms or bbq sauce, and I'd ask them to hold the pickle, onion, ketchup and mustard if those were also part of the deal.
So I asked the teen standing at the register what came with the XL. "Depends on which variety you get," she said. Well, OK, explain it to me. She stared for a minute and said, "I don't make them, I don't eat them. I have no idea what's on those sandwiches. They used to have a chart here that listed that stuff, but someone stole it."
(Ahem, I'd just like to interject here that if she's not eating at Burger King, she's sure getting her food supply from somewhere because this certainly was not an anorexic waif. I'm thinking she's been sucking down the 1/2 price milkshakes next door at Steak n Shake twice as fast as the rest of the population. And I'd like to take issue with the idea that someone stole a cheat sheet on Burger King sandwiches. It's not exactly a hot item on eBay, now is it?)
Before I could pop my mouth off, my husband tried to head me off at the pass. "Well, could you ask someone who does know?" he suggested. She stared at him, sighed and griped, "Sure thing. I'll be glad to do that in the middle of a big rush."
I turned around: there was one occupied table in the entire unit. We were the only ones in line. I peered through the drive thru and saw ... cement. No cars, no bicycles, no goofballs placing an order on foot at that window. Unless there were 57 people hiding in the ladies room waiting to pounce on the kitchen with orders, we were it as far as customers go.
I did get my burger by basically dictating a custom order, and then we enjoyed further hassling over handing her a gift card she didn't know how to credit.
The sad thing is some poor Joe gave me that free meal as an incentive to get me to try BK burgers again. Instead, I decided I'd volunteer to be fried in the French fry vat before I'd go through that conversation again.
Photography: Pink Moose