It Ain't Easy Fleein' Green

Sweet Gummi Mary! How hard is it to do a simple job correctly? We're not talking about brain surgery, where every now and then a slip of the scalpel could render a patient speechless. We're not talking about quality control in a nuclear power plant, where a momentary "resting my eyes" nod-off could kill all life on earth. No. We are talking about my Whopper at Burger King. 

Remember Burger King's old slogan? "Have it your way!" Uh huh. They even had a little song about it: "Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us, all we ask is that you let us serve it your way." That commercial was back in 1974. I guess all the Burger King people in charge of that are dead by now. Because none of the new workers understand it.

Hold up! Maybe I'm being too hasty. The last 10 times The Pony and I went to Burger King on our Devil's Playground shopping trips, we had old ladies take our order and our money and hand the food out the window. 

At the first window, an old lady would repeat the order. Then take my debit card or cash, in a clear plastic bin she stuck out the window. Returning it the same way with my receipt.

At the second window, a different old lady would repeat the order. Then pass it out the window to me in a bigger clear plastic bin. We never had anything wrong with our order.

On Sunday, a young girl took our order. I have it memorized.

"A Number 1, medium, WITH cheese, NO pickles, NO tomato. And a Sprite. Then a another Number 1, medium, NO cheese, NO lettuce. And a Diet Coke."

"I'm sorry. Did you want to upgrade that to medium or large?"

"Yes. Medium."

"And you wanted that first Whopper with cheese?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. What else?"

"NO pickle. NO tomato."

"Okay. And what did you want to drink with that?"

"Sprite."

"Okay. Now on the next Whopper?"

"NO cheese. NO lettuce."

"Did you want to make that one medium or large?"

"Yes. Medium."

"And what did you want to drink?"

"Diet Coke."

"Okay. That will be $18.66. Please pull around."

I looked at The Pony while driving 1 mph to the line at the window.

"I have a feeling something will go wrong with our order. Maybe they should let someone who DIDN'T just smoke weed work order station. She couldn't remember ANYTHING, from one second to the next. I had told her everything she re-asked me!"

At the first window was a young man, perhaps out of his teens. Perhaps not. He took my card, and returned my receipt. Didn't mention my order. The line was moving slower than usual. At the food window, another young man, perhaps early 20s, handed our food out in the bin. No mention of my order.

The Pony dug into the sack and strapped on the old feedbag. His Whopper smelled delicious! By the time we got home, he was finished. In fact, he chastised me for asking him a question while he was savoring his last bite. No complaints about his Whopper meal. 

 

My little beast of burden carried in the groceries he had gathered in The Devil's Playground. I put part of it away, then set my food on my lair tray as he finished up. I added a ramekin of ketchup. I slipped into my lairwear, added Sugar Free Cherry Limeade to my Diet Coke, and headed to my subterranean level.

 

I think I was salivating a little as I unwrapped my Whopper.

 

NOOOOOO!!!

 

That's the lettuce I picked off my no-lettuce Whopper! I would have taken the picture while it was still sitting atop my no-lettuce Whopper, but I had to remove it forthwith, lest the stench permeate the meat! I don't mind lettuce in a salad, or in a taco. Maybe on limited sandwiches. But I can't tolerate it on a burger. It ruins the taste and texture. 

The order-taker had ONE JOB to do. And the Whopper-maker had ONE JOB to do.

Neither did it. Don't schedule any brain surgery unless you have a Boomer doctor...