This is Why You Work at Burger King and I, Thankfully, Don't.

Mar 29, 2010 00:09

I order a Whopper and an order of onion rings. I like the "Zesty" dipping sauce they have - I believe it's part horseradish, which I like, though there's something else in there. I'm generally not a fan of the trend to make everything so goddamn spicy-fire-hot these days - what, is everyone too jacked up on cigarettes or something to actually taste food? - but I tolerate horseradish a lot better than I take, say, jalapenos. Which isn't hard, since I avoid jalapenos and chili peppers like the plague.

"Anything else?" asks the disembodied speaker voice.

In the past, when I've asked for this sauce, they toss in two foil-sealed tubs. But a little of that stuff goes a long way, and I never even open the second tub.

"Just one tub of the Zesty sauce, and that should do it."

"Please pull around to the window."

Money and food changes hands, and the middle-aged woman leans out the window and offers, "Well, I put two tubs in there, no biggie." Like she was doing me a favor.

"Ah. Well," I say, almost already sensing the futility in trying to communicate this idea, "I only ever use one of these tubs at a meal."

"Oh, that's okay - you've got two, you can double-dip."

Mental facepalm, drive away, consider myself glad the economy hasn't forced me to work in fast-food. Yet.
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