I went to Burger King with the younger boy on Saturday, and you can see the level of nasty-ass that was perched on my Whopper. I usually order everything without pickles, but got talked out of it this time.
“You don’t want any shitty pickles, right?” I said to the boy, while making our way to the counter.
“It doesn’t matter how you order it, they’ll just make it the same way they always do. I know half the people who work here, and they’re all really stupid,” he said.
So, I was swayed by his bitter cynicism, and just ordered two Whopper meals, with no special instructions attached. And look at all that! It’s from my burger alone. The boy had his own pile going, on the other side of the table. You can also see a little mayo on the wrapper, which is another condiment concocted in the devil’s workshop.
However… the burger was pretty good. I can handle the spreadables, if there’s no oozing. But if I bite down on the north side of a burger, and it oozes from the south, by gag reflex kicks in. Then I have to go find a plastic knife, and start scraping stuff off. The pickles, however, are way too overpowering, and must be removed without delay.
A small complaint, in addition to the one illustrated by the photo: they didn’t put cheese on our Whoppers — because we didn’t specifically order it. I hate that. It should be understood, as it is everywhere else. But at Burger King you have to say the magic words: Whopper with cheese. That’s bullshit. I’ve been victimized by this fast food loophole many times.
“Cheese costs fifty cents extra,” the boy told me, during my rant.
“Fifty cents! For a single slice of plastic cheese?? I’m going to start smuggling in my own,” I declared. “Before I leave the house, I’m going to put a few slices in my back pocket, and add them to my burger at the table. …Wonder if anybody’s ever been banned from this place, for bringing in outside cheese?”
The boy just kept eating, without answering my question.
“Hey, there’s a NOW HIRING sign on the door. You should apply, and fix all the problems from the inside,” I told him.
“No,” he said.
“Well, Chipotle is opening soon, in Dickson City. Maybe you can get in on the ground floor of that deal?” I offered.
“There’s nothing more degrading than making a burrito for a stranger, ” he said, which made me laugh for a good long time.
“You were bussing tables at the country club, cleaning up other peoples’ filth. Making a burrito is worse?” I asked.
“No comparison,” he told me.
Good stuff. I love when people take ridiculous stances like that. I’ve heard my brother say, more than once, “I will NEVER eat anything called an omelette.” He just doesn’t like the sound of the word. Also, yogurt. He digs in his heels, based on the feel of a word. This amuses me. I have my own rules, about many things, so I kinda understand it. But it’s still funny.
For a question, I’d like to know about various crazy-ass stances you’ve known people to take during your life. It doesn’t have to be about food, necessarily. It can be about, say, shitting at work? Anything you got.
And I’ll see you guys again soon.
Buy yourself something cool at Amazon! It’s the American way.