Friday, January 18, 2008

Kris Vs. Burger King

Let me start with a disclaimer that no Burger King employees were harmed in the making of this blog entry, although there probably should have been. I also want to say that I harbour no disrespect for those of you that currently hold a McJob. It's an admirable profession, and somebody has to do it. Hey, wipe that smirk off your face. Yeah, I'm talking to you.

I have a long standing love hate relationship with fast food. On the CON side, you have the piss poor quality, the long term health ramifications and the oh so cheerful, please god fucking kill me now, employees. On the PRO side, there's nothing quite like a greasy burger when you have a nasty case of the munchies, or are just to lazy to fire up the stove. They also contain the holy grail of any eating establishment when you're a parent. The sole reason why its okay to let your kids out of their cages for the night and enjoy a meal you didn't have to cook yourself. I am of course speaking of the almighty PLAYLAND. This is a magical place where mothers and fathers can let their kids roam free, untethered, and without a care in the world. A place where a parent can for once enjoy a quiet, peaceful meal, without ever having to utter the phrases "Stop punching your sister in the face" or the classic "If you stick one more carrot up your nose, I swear to god...". You can see the dilemma I face in order to preserve my sanity.

So as much as I hate it, some days just call for that double bacon McFucking Fat meal. And don't forget my supersize, bitches. Tonight was one of those nights. I should also prerequisite this by telling you that I myself once held a fast food job. Between the ages of 13 and 15, I worked at a McDonalds. Because of this unique experience, I learned to hate mankind relentlessly, and only now, 12 years later, am I starting to see that the human race isn't really that bad after all. Except for mouth breathers. They can burn in hell. The point of all this exposition is that I know first hand the shit these poor bastards have to put up with. Working for slave wages, trying to please asshole customers that just can't be pleased. It is not a fun job. So I empathize with them, and always try to be as nice as humanly possible. Even though they always seem to screw up, 99% of the time I will smile graciously and thank them for a job well done, even if said job has been done piss poor. But I am only human, and as such get the urge to kill every now and then. This was one of those times.


I strolled happily into my local Burger King, not anticipating the frustration to come, although I should have seen it coming. The restaurant was completely empty, which gave me a false sense of hope. Surely if they weren't crazy busy, they could get my order right for once. Oh how stupid I am. I walked up to the customer service specialist, and although I don't carry a tape recorder with me for proof, our conversation went something like this. For my own amusement I will refer to the cashier from here on out as Ms. Cuntly. And just to mix things up a bit, I'll be Mr. Awesome.

Ms. Cuntly: Hi there, Welcome to Burger King. What can I get you tonight?

She managed to get this first sentence out without drooling all over herself, I noticed.

Mr. Awesome: Hi. I would like a King Supreme and a Spicy chicken sandwich please. But just the burgers, I don't want any fries or drink or anything.

It's rare that I order fries and drinks at fast food joints. I'm not sure why, but then I guess it doesn't really matter.

Ms. Cuntly: You would like hamburger?
Mr. Awesome: Um, no. I would like a King Supreme and a Spicy chicken. Burgers only, please and thank you.
Ms. Cuntly: What number please?
Mr. Awesome: Huh? I don't think we need to bring numbers into this. Just a King Supreme and a Spicy Chicken, please.
Ms. Cuntly: Okay okay. A hamburger and a chicken sandwich. Would you like anything else tonight?
Mr. Awesome: Wait wait wait. Let's back up for just a second. Let's do this one at a time. First, I would like a King Supreme. Punch that in, I'll wait, and then I'll tell you what else I want.
Ms. Cuntly: What number please?

It was at this time that I started to hear the Twilight Zone music in my head.

Mr. Awesome: There is no number. I don't want a combo or a value meal or whatever. Just the burger.

A look of realization slowly dawned on her face and I once again started to get my hopes up.

Mr. Awesome: Right on Ms. Cuntly, just one more item and we can wrap this up!
Ms. Cuntly: What did you just call me?
Mr. Awesome: That's not important right now. We're almost there. Now you just need to punch in a Spicy Chicken Sandwich.

She finished punching in the order and announced my total.

Ms. Cuntly: That will be $4.85 please

Now I'm not one to turn down a deal, but I knew immediately that this total was far lower than it should have been. And based on our conversation so far, I had a feeling that I was not going to get what I had ordered if we continued down this road.

Mr. Awesome: I'm sorry, but I really think the total should be higher than that. Can you read my order back to me?
Ms. Cuntly: Sure thing. You would like a hamburger and a spicy chicken sandwich.

The only thing that stopped me from jumping over the counter and making her my bitch at that moment was realizing that she got half the order right. We were making progress, and I had come to far to turn back now, or end up in jail on assault charges. Although I'm fairly sure I could have gotten off with a temporary insanity plea.

Mr. Awesome: No, no, no, no, no, no. I don't want a hamburger, I want a KING SUPREME. It's like a hamburger, but it has special sauce and lettuce on it.
Ms. Cuntly: Oh, you want a KING Supreme.

As if the inflection of the word King suddenly made everything make sense in her twisted little mind. She made the correction and announced my new total. It sounded right, but at this point I just wanted to start throwing my money at her in a feeble attempt to get the hell out the door with my dinner safely in tow. I moved along to the end of the counter to await the completion of my order, quietly thanking Jesus, Mohammad and Buddha for allowing me to survive this ordeal. Before I knew it, Ms. Cuntly was handing me my greasy sack of food complete with a well meaning smile. However, her other hand held a drink.

Mr. Awesome: What's this?
Ms. Cuntly: Your drink sir.
Mr. Awesome: Oh, okay, that's great except I DIDN'T ORDER ANY FUCKING DRINK! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? AM I ON FUCKING CANDID CAMERA OR SOME SUCH SHIT?!??!?!?!

Okay, so I didn't really react like that, but I was sure as hell thinking it. My actual answer was probably something far less assholeish.

Mr. Awesome: Oh I didn't order a drink. All I wanted was the burgers thanks.

I wonder if the throbbing vein in my head gave away how pissed I actually was. If it did, she didn't seem to care. She slowly shuffled over to her cash register and started to push random buttons (or so it looked from where I was standing). She was trying to figure out how to refund the amounts so that we could start this whole process over from scratch. Well fuck that. We're not going there. I swooped (swept?, no, swooped) into action.

Mr. Awesome: You know what, I don't care if I overpaid. It's really okay. Please just give me my burgers and I'll leave peacefully. No one has to get hurt.

She shrugged her shoulders and handed me the greasy sack. I can't be sure, but I swear I heard a chorus of Hallelujah erupt from behind me as the bag touched my hand. I clutched it to my chest and ran like hell for the door.

Once I was safely in my apartment I opened the bag to enjoy my hard fought dinner. Inside was a regular hamburger and a spicy chicken sandwich.

Fuck.

I really can't make this shit up people.

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm not on your blogroll?? WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT????


Come on, quid pro quo....you do me, I'll do you. God knows we read each other's shit enough.

Love and fisting,
Mrs. Cuntly


(laurie kendrick)

Kris said...

Wow, you're right...what the fuck is up with that? I thought I had added you. I've got to stop blacking out while I update this thing. Consider this injustice rectifyed.

Oatmeal said...

Fan-Fucking-Tastic!!! I just read your blog for the first time, from the link on the DGM message board, and I am officially addicted!!! Any writer who makes me laugh out loud, once, twice, THREE times in the very first post I read, is a winner in my book!!!!

And hey, At least you didn't end up with a Fish sandwich and fries...

Kris said...

Thanks so much Oatmeal. I'm a whore for praise, so you just made my day. Keep reading and hopefully I can keep entertaining you.

Melissa said...

Great post Kris. Laughed out loud in my class, which was quite embarrassing...

SAM said...

In honor of you Kris, you comment whore..... This "Fuck" is for you!

Maybe next time you can order the the meal, let's say its a #5 with OUT a drink or fries. This may get their attention a little better and allow them to understand it more quickly for fucks sake. OR, immediately ask for a manager, I am sure it will throw off the cashier but O' well.

As for the family for reading your fucking journal. Who gives a fuck, at least your healthy enough to right down your fealings/thoughts and not leaving them all bottled up inside. Kuddos Kris.

JoeDrinker said...

You know, sometimes I really feel for the people who end up working in these fast food joints..if that's the only work they could get. I mean, I'd rather have her there screwing up my Whopper than screwing up me teeth as a dentist or my car as a mechanic.

The sad part of this is that this has become the norm anymore. On the rare occasion that I eat fast food I now get out of my car and go inside, even if I'm late, to make sure I place my order face to face. The only thing that can make these ridiculous interactions worse is shouting it through a clown's mouth into a rusty speaker and hope that the mumbled response was even close to what you wanted to eat.

Charles Gramlich said...

I've had very similar experiences. We went through a Popeyes chicken place and they had a big add up for some Popcorn shrimp. I ordered it. They said, "ok, "popcorn chicken."

No, the popcorn shrimp, I said,

The large or small, sir.

"uhm, large."

"we don't carry that, sir."

there's more but my brain stopped working around then.

Kris said...

Lol. You've got to love it when they try and upsell to something they don't carry. Makes you want to slap someone, right?

Jillian said...

LOL.. this post was hilarious. I got here from the "post of the Day" award or whatever it's called.

Anyways, I'll definitely be back. This was awesome.

Em said...

OMG--Mr. Awesome vs. Ms. Cuntly? I've laughed out loud and so loud that I've awakened the master of the house! Love your writing, I'll be back for more. I'm a whore for great writer voices!

CanadaDad said...

Holy Crap! It's like you were living my life!

Are you sure you weren't at the BK in Brandon?

BK used to be my favorite fast-food place, but they've really gone to shit lately. The staff is totally incompetent.

I was starting to think that they had a gas leak in the kitchen or something. Or maybe just too much exhaust coming in the drive-thru window.

Hilarious blog. I'll be stopping by regularly to see what's new.

Kris said...

Jillian and Em: Thanks so much. Your comments made me smile so wide a little drool escaped from my mouth and landed on my pants. Now it looks like I had an accident. Awesome.
CanadaDad: I actually lived just outside of Brandon about 4 years ago, so I have experienced their Burger King. Not exactly fine dining. And thanks for coming!