March 29th, 2005
|09:34 am - Big Gak™|
Confession time: I like fast food breakfasts. I like the processed almost-American cheese and the fresh-out-of-the-cardboard-tube, just-like-mom-used-to-scoff-at biscuits. I like the way I can feel my arteries stiffen when I eat them, and the way they make me feel like a bad human being for giving money to a huge multinational corporation. I know how bad they are for me, so I don't eat them very often. I estimate that I've had in the ballpark of five in the last year.
So this morning I'm thinking that I'd like a breakfast sandwich. I don't normally pass any fast food restaurants on my way to work, so I have to go out of my way. I pull in, order my sandwich, pay for it and drive away. I unwrap it in the car and from the angle I'm looking at it, it appears to be lopsided but otherwise fine. It's only when I bite into it that I realize they've given me a sausage biscuit. Not what I ordered.
I have a pretty strong stomach. I've never met a pepper I didn't like, and when the Korean restaurant neglects to tell me that the egg in my bi bim bob is served raw (as opposed to boiled as depicted in the plastic display model), I take it in stride. I can eat sriracha by the spoonful (it's a bad idea, but I can do it). Sausage, however (specifically McDonalds' sausage), is at the top of a small list of foods normal people can eat which I can't handle. You can guess what my stomach did as soon as I figured out what I was eating. I pulled over to the side of highway 30 and managed to get the door open just in time.
It wasn't cool. Or pretty.
A couple of passing motorists saw what I was doing and honked. Somebody rolled down her window and yelled the kind of unintelligible "mumble mumble WOO-HOO mumble" that you hear going on in commercials for Drunk Girls Take Off Their Shirts videos.
Having regained my composure, I took a look at my receipt and saw that they'd punched in my order wrong (and I know they punched it in wrong because it was repeated back to me correctly). Other people might deal with this differently, but this is bound to happen sometimes, and I'm just going to let it slide. If we demanded that this never happen, you'd have to pay $8 per cheeseburger just to maintain the voice recognition software used in the drive-thru. And I'm sure McDonalds already demands that it never happen, with the expectation that on rare occasions it will.
My stomach had settled by the time I got to work. Determined to get (most of) my money's worth, I peeled the sausage patty off the bun, wrapped it in a napkin, and ate the rest of the sandwich.
Between this and my experience on Friday, I figure the universe is telling me to pack more lunches.
Current Mood: irritated
Current Music: The Moog Cookbook -- Rockin' In The Free World
|Date:||March 29th, 2005 06:14 pm (UTC)|| |
my esteem for you hightens as i find you can admit that in public. I just really liked the way that was written colin, even though "I" haven't had fast food in 6 years.
No fast food in six years? That's commendable. My problem with fast food -- no, scratch that. There are more problems than I can count associated with fast food. My weakness for it stems from the "fast" part. What's so difficult about throwing a handful of nuts, an apple, some carrots and a piece of cheese into a lunchbox? I don't know either, but I can't seem to make it happen as often as I'd like.
So who's this commenting anonymously on my journal?