Yesterday I had to run to Columbus to get supplies for the house. Before returning home I decided to stop at a Wendys to get some chili and a junior bacon cheeseburger.
They used to serve their junior bacon cheeseburgers just the way I liked. BACON, CHEESE, KETCHUP, MUSTARD, PICKLE, BURGER, and BUN. But things have changed. Now they have deleted the ketchup, mustard, and pickle and replaced them with lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. To some this might be an improvement, but to me it's sacrilege. If I wanted a salad, I'd order one. Don't slap one on top of my delicious bacon cheeseburger. The solution should be simple. All I need to do is order one with the options I want.
So, I did. With a long line of vehicles behind me, I accepted my bagged food and drove away. After driving across town I parked to have my meal. When I dug the chili out of the sack I discovered it was lukewarm. A minor irritation. But when I grabbed my sandwich I was really irked because they never bothered to make it the way I wanted. That's right. It had lettuce, tomato and mayo but no ketchup, mustard or pickle. (by the way, I HATE mayo)
I cursed under my breath as I drove back to Wendys. Actually I may have cursed out loud. I waited in line for about 10 minutes, clutching my desecrated burger in one hand as I observed the mindless blank stares of the employees chit-chatting with one another. I swear there wasn't a single worker there that wasn't pushing 300 pounds. The fry cook was sampling fries straight from the fry bin. One worker must have been on break. - Either that or his job was to support one of the counter-tops. - Maybe it was missing a leg. - Maybe he had slipped on some of the food that was stuck to the kitchen floor.
When I finally reached the front of the line I handed my cold burger to the pimple-faced cashier and (politely) informed him that I had not received my food as ordered. I had to repeat my order to him 3 times before he grasped the concept that I wanted a replacement. He kept one eye fixed on me and the other on the returned sandwich as he ferried it back to his supervisor. The boss seemed to give me a displeased look as he listened to the cashier repeat (incorrectly) my order. Over the din of co-worker chatter I repeated my order in hope that I'd actually get something close to what I wanted.
Eventually I did receive another bacon cheeseburger. It was lacking pickle, ketchup, or mustard but I didn't want to wait any longer. By now my chili was cold.
OK. There are those among you that think that I'll whine about any AND every thing. You're probably right. But I can't help but think about all of those fast food chains where the employees are striking for $15 per hour. I think about all those jobs that they say American workers are unwilling to do so we are supposed to need illegal aliens to do. I think about all of the restoration parts that I need that are now made overseas. I think about the sea of foreign cars out in the parking lot.
Yes, I left with my sandwich. But I left with a bit more disillusionment than when I'd arrived.
Maybe I should have gone to Burger King.
