A working woman does not want to work all day and then come home and work some more. Not THIS working woman, anyway. Even if her whole day of work consisted of sitting around a junior college field house watching pupils present their science projects. ESPECIALLY if her whole day consisted of sitting around a junior college field house watching pupils present their science projects.
I knew that neither Farmer H nor The Pony was capable of getting a meal on the table. I would be lucky if they were still breathing when I got home, what with nobody to tell them when to inhale and when to exhale. Dang it! I left the college at 3:50, and then headed to Newmentia to make sure my pupils had a ride home, and then graded the papers assigned by my substitute, and then headed for the Mansion.
As you might recall from yesterday, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom had sore back. I called The Pony and told him I was going to pick up some chicken tacos at Hardee's. He said he would take some chicken tenders. He couldn't find Farmer H, so I told him I was getting beef tacos for him in case he asked.
Well, you know the universe conspires against Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. Nobody was in line. Few cars were in the parking lot. I was cautiously optimistic for a quick fast-food pickup and a 32 oz Diet Coke (too late in the evening for the full 44), and then home to hit the blogs and watch the DVRed Amazing Race with The Pony.
I ordered without incident. There was one car ahead of me at the pickup window, and it pulled out as soon as I rounded the building. I paid. It was the gal who gave me the wrong sauce for The Pony's chicken a couple weeks ago. She gave me BBQ sauce when I had asked at the speaker for Honey Mustard. I wouldn't have known, except when she handed me the bag, I said,
"And the Honey Mustard sauce is in here?" She looked at me blankly.
Yeah my ample butt! I looked in the bag before I drove off.
"This is BBQ sauce. I wanted Honey Mustard." She just looked at me some more. "If I give you back the BBQ sauce, can I have Honey Mustard?"
Sweet Gummi Mary! Like I was running a scam to get TWO kinds of sauce!
Anyhoo...Friday evening, I paid for three chicken tacos, three beef tacos, and a five-piece chicken tenders with Honey Mustard sauce. Not the combo.
"We're working on your tacos. Can you pull up?"
I figured I would have to pull up. Usually it's because of the chicken tenders. So I pulled up and waited. She brought out the bag. A brown paper bag, about the size that might hold a burger and fries. I asked if the sauce was inside. She said yes. And walked off. I investigated further. While I had been sitting there, two cars had come and gone to the window. Nobody was behind me now.
Normally, Hardee's puts the chicken tenders in a Styrofoam box. And the tacos, too. Not in paper. Just laying on each other in a Styrofoam container, like week-old puppies laying on each other in a blanket-lined box. But now I only had a paper sack. I looked in. I saw three tiny tacos wrapped in paper. Not even the width of the sack. Oh, well. I guessed they just looked bigger in a Styrofoam container. There was a cardboard box of chicken tenders. A Honey Mustard sauce. Two packets of taco sauce. And that's all.
Now wait just a minute! My receipt clearly showed that I had paid for three chicken tacos and three beef tacos. Not simply three tacos. I looked in my mirror to see if they were coming out with the rest of my order. Nope. There is no customer door on that side. Just the tiny door that employees come out from their drive-thru window. I drove around to the other side. Parked. Took my bag and receipt and my tweaked back into the vestibule. Where I was met by that gal coming out the inner door.
"Oh, we forgot your tacos. I looked out to see if you were still there, but you were gone." Let the record show that she did not have them with her. You would think that when she saw me come in, and left the safety of the behind-counter area to greet me, she would have brought those forgotten tacos. But no. I had to walk to the counter and wait for her to locate them.
"Yes. I seem to be missing three tacos."
A dude worker came up to the register near where I was standing. He had heard the whole exchange. He knew what was going on.
"How's it going?"
"Not the best. I'm missing tacos." Let the record show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was having none of his smarminess.
Sweet Gummi Mary! These are the youth who are eventually going to be operating nuclear power facilities!
Well. Probably not these exact individuals.