small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>fast food fuckup</strong>

Wednesday, August 11

fast food fuckup

Fast food restaurants chap my ass. The quality of service makes me so fucking angry. How many times have you pulled into the drive-thru of a fast food joint and there’s not another car in sight. What a sweet deal you think, I’ll get my food quick and get the fuck out of here. But when you pull up to the menu to order you’re told to wait. What the fuck is there to wait for? Finally you place your order and pull up to the window, now you gotta wait again for your food to get prepared. Oh, and don’t confuse the mouth-breather on the other side of the window by making them have to figure your change. “Sir, your order is $6.78”. So, in order to clear out your cup holder you hand the bastard $11.78. Congratulations, you just broke the fuckers concentration. Instead of just handing you a five-dollar bill and your food, dumbass has to call the manager cause he can’t figure out the change. And don’t even try to tell em what the change should be; they’ll think you’re trying to get over on em. Now you got your food and you head home, you hit the door, grab a piece of the couch and turn on the TV. You start pulling things out of the sack and you realize………the fucking fish sandwich is fucking missing! Muthafuck! You’re so pissed you get a hard-on. You run screaming out of the house and leap into the car and bust ass getting back up to fast food hell. By now you’re so angry you’ve pee’ed yourself and you can’t stop hyperventilating. You’re so pissed your bowls are loose and blood is leaking from the corners of your eyes. You rush thru the door and bellow for the manager, some Joe Friday looking muthafucker comes out from the back and asks if he can help you.
Help me? Help me? Yeah you can help me! I didn’t get my fucking fish sandwich!
And in the clearest, most condescending voice imaginable, the manager says; Sir, may I see your receipt. You think quickly. The receipt is at home on the couch. As the manager smiles, you can’t help but notice how yellow his teeth are. As he tells you; no receipt, no service, you now understand why so many fast food restaurants are robbed every day. It’s not about the money. It’s all about not getting the fish sandwich.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"


Blogger satyavati said...

I went to the Castle Hayne Hardees one time back in the day before I quit eating meat. It took them seventeen minutes to get me eight pieces of chicken, mashed potatoes, a couple of biscuits and a half gallon of tea. I offered to help them pluck the chickens. I offered to help them fry the chickens. I informed them that I could have ordered and paid for Dominos in the time it took them to get me eight f'n pieces of chicken. The words 'fast food' are an oxymoron. The quickest place around here to get something to eat is the Chinese restaurant. And God forbid you piss off those folks at BK or McD, because you know they'll do something rancid like spit in your tea or piss on your burger. It happens all the time.

12:43 PM  

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