My 12-year-old son and I found ourselves in need of nourishment while shopping so we hastened to a nearby fast food restaurant for a quick fix. It was one of the rare times in my life that the coupons in my wallet actually matched the eatery I was in and I thought this must be my lucky day. I presented the coupons to the server behind the counter, a young woman of about 20, and informed her that my son would like his Chicken Lickin’ sandwich plain.
She looked at me with what I thought was concerned interest and said, “What don’t you want on it?” I replied, “We don’t want anything on it. Nothing at all.” She cocked her head to the side and looked slightly confused. “You mean you don’t even want the meat?”
“Excuse me?” I said, thinking I must not have heard right. “Are you asking me if I want a Chicken Lickin’ sandwich with no meat?”
She looked mildly annoyed. “Well, you said you didn’t want anything on it.”
“Don’t you think $5 is a lot of money for an empty bun with no chicken on it? Yes, by all means, include the meat.”
She walked off grumbling and shaking her head. I felt a little twitch developing over my left eye but the rumble in my stomach was stronger so I stayed put. I then called her attention to the other coupon which advertised a Megaburger or a Megaburger with cheese and specified that I would like the Megaburger. She returned with my son’s plain Chicken Lickin’ sandwich and a Megaburger with cheese.
“No, I think there’s a little mix-up here,” I said gently. “I asked for a Megaburger.”
She yanked the coupon out of the register drawer and stuck it in my face.
“See? It says right here ‘a Megaburger or a Megaburger with cheese’. You can get either one. And I gave you one. I don’t know what your problem is.”
“The problem,” I said evenly, “is that the coupon is mine so I’m the one who gets to choose. Not you. I’m the customer so I get to pick. That’s how it works.”
She rolled her eyes and snatched the unwanted sandwich off the tray and tossed it into the garbage.
“Why did you do that?” I gasped. “Why did you throw away a perfectly good sandwich?”
She rolled her eyes again. “Because we’re not allowed to serve returned food to another customer.”
“But I didn’t return it. You put it on the tray. I never even touched it.”
She ignored me. I turned to my son who was busy giving me his I-can’t-believe-you’re-wasting-this-much-time-on-such-an-obvious-lost-cause look and I was beginning to agree with him. But then she brought the drinks.
On the tray with the Megaburger and the hopefully not empty Chicken Lickin’ bun were two Cokes. I pointed to one and said, “Only one is a Coke. The other is an orange drink.” Treating us to another display of eye-rolling she said, “They are obviously both Cokes.”
I leaned ominously across the counter stabbing at the tray with my finger. “This one is a Coke. That one may be disguised as a Coke but it’s supposed to be an orange drink.” She grabbed the bogus Coke and flung it into the garbage on top of the virgin Megaburger with cheese. My left eye was throbbing like one of the Budweiser toads. I began rifling my wallet for the exact amount to avoid the misery of a situation that could possibly involve making change.
As my son and I finally sat down to enjoy our meal I thought that perhaps this incident could provide a valuable lesson regarding the necessity of education, courtesy and common sense. I turned to my son and asked, “Is there anything that can be learned from the experience we just had?”
“Definitely,” he answered between bites. “Next time we go to a diner.”
Copyright 1996 by author; first online publication 12/24/06
Copyright 1996 by author