I’ve got a beef with Burger King

I work in an industrial area of town and if I forget my lunch (which I do far too often), I have very few options. There’s a Subway right around the corner or a Burger King down the road. I took off for Burger King today and as I drove up to the board, I gritted my teeth because I knew what was coming.

BK: “Would you like to try a Whopper value meal today? Order when ready.”

Me: “Yes I would. I’d like a number one, small. Make the drink a coke, no ice. That’s all.”

The next thing anyone should expect is the amount that’s due and maybe a pleasant thank you. Oh no. Not here. I’ve been here enough times that I knew what was coming next:

BK: “You said a number one?”

Me. “Yes.”

BK: “Would you like cheese on that?”

Me: “No.”

BK: “Small, medium, or large?”

Me (annoyed): “Small.”

BK: “And you said, ‘no ice,’ right?”

Me (with a death grip on my steering wheel): “No ice.”

I hold my breath for a second because maybe this time they’ll ask if I want onion rings instead of fries.

BK: “Okay, that’ll be five-blah blah blah. Please pull around.”

It never fails. I don’t get this shit from McDonalds in my town. Hell, sometimes they’re telling me my amount due as, “that’s all,” are tumbling past my lips. With this Burger King, not only do I have to repeat my order… I have to walk them through it step by step.

You know, at least I’m not the asshat placing special orders for the four other people in his or her car.