Residual Forces

So we needed some coffee here at work, and I needed a few things for the house. Yummy steak (as I finally have a night free to enjoy a nice home cooked meal), dog food, vegetables, milk, etc etc. Kinda the basics, so I said I would grab coffee and hit the store over lunch. That went swimmingly well. No wobbly wheel on the cart, no run ins with pallet blockades, I was able to pass the seniors (which is not easy most days) who were roaming or acting like pylons always standing where you wanted to go, there was no waiting in line at the register, and the cashier was incredibly nice.

Phew! No sweat, in and out, plus a few minutes to spare for some grub.

There’s a Wendy’s and a Culver’s by the grocery store here. Since I can’t handle the Butter burgers nor the snooty people who believe that they are actually fast food aristocracy for deciding to graze there, I chose Wendy’s.  This may have been just the 2nd time in the 2 years the Wendy’s has been there, that I have eaten there. Oh, there is a Chipoltle there too, but if you think the Culver’s people are snobs, well, you have another thing coming at Chipoltle. (Also, spicey food like that and I don’t get along.)

0 for 2

That’s Wendy’s record of giving me what I ask for.

Mind you: 

At Wendy’s®, we’re unrivaled in our passion for giving people what they want — and uncompromising in giving people what they deserve.

Now you pull up and look at the menu board, you see a bunch of ridiculous names for burgers and meals. They prominantly display their latest deepfried chicken low carb blah blah sandwich, just like the other fast food joints. All I want is a cheese burger and fries, so I ask for that with just ketchup on it.

There’s a pause on the speaker. “So you want the combo meal?” the box says. I replied, sure, cheese burger with just ketchup though.”

Mind you: 

At Wendy’s®, we’re unrivaled in our passion for giving people what they want — and uncompromising in giving people what they deserve.

The box then asked what kind of drink. I say Pepsi or coke, what ever you have is fine. And we all know there is next to no difference in taste from the fast food fountain machines, and I really didn’t want it anyways.  I pulled up, paid, got the food, and raced back to work.

Once I got here and unwrapped the burger, I discover not only is there more than just the requested ketchup but worse….

Mind you: 

At Wendy’s®, we’re unrivaled in our passion for giving people what they want — and uncompromising in giving people what they deserve.

My cheeseburger that was requested to only have ketchup on it also included: Mustard, lettuce, tomato, onions, and worst of all MAYO.

No human being should have to request that MAYO not be added to their burger. Is this Canada or something?

In the movie the Whole Nine Yards, Bruce Willis goes on a tyrraid about how the Canadians always put MAYO on their burgers. How every red blooded American knows that pickles and ketchup (if memory serves) are all that belong on any burger. And then threatens the (presumably) French-Canadian waitress to take the burger back and if she brings him another one, and it has MAYO on it, he’s going to beat her with it or something.

That’s kinda how I feel right now, but it is too late.

So that is twice now that I have eaten the only bottom of a Wendy’s burger, gagged on the over salted fries, and not been given what I deserved.

Mind you: 

At Wendy’s®, we’re unrivaled in our passion for giving people what they want — and uncompromising in giving people what they deserve.

Why just the bottom? Because that is where the ketchup was, and unlike the top of the bun, wasn’t soaked with white nastiness called MAYO. So I simply fold it in half, and pretend I went to Taco Bell and that it is really a taco.

I either need a vacation, a nap, or a shrink.