This is a continuation of yesterday’s thread. I’m gonna wrap this up today, then the rest of the week will have a story about Fred getting bit and I’ve got a announcement to make on Friday (nothing Earth shaking just gonna try to help a friend in need)
Subway
The offense: TOO MANY CHOICES!!! Lucy loves to eat here, but I tend to get a migraine whenever we drive by it. This is the only restaurant that causes me to break my “everyone eats at the same place” rule. (If we can’t all agree on the same place to eat what can we agree on?) This whole place in general just drives me insane. We just spent the last half hour playing “Where do you want to eat? I don’t know. Where do you want to eat?”, we finally decide on a sub, and now we gotta literally teach the de-dit-did-dee behind the counter how to make a sandwich from HIS MENU!!
“Yes I’d like a Chicken Bacon Ranch you’ve been advertising”
“What kind of bread? What kind of chicken? What kind of Bacon? Baked? What kind of sauce? Lettuce? Tomatoes? Cheese? Ranch Dressing?”
“I DON’T KNOW YOU ARE THE ONE THAT WORKS HERE”
Excuse me if I left my blue prints on how you make that particular hoagie in the other car!!! WHY EVEN ADVERTISE A CERTAIN KIND OF SUB IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT’S MADE!!! I’ve got enough choices in life that are more important than what goes between two pieces of bread. Just make me whatever you feel like eating and I’ll trust your judgment.
The justice: I’m going let them decide. “Do you want to be covered in sandwich meat and left alone in the desert with the vultures?” “Do want lettuce? Oil and Vinegar? Jalapeño cheese? Cucumbers? What about bell peppers? Red, Green, or Yellow?”
Sonic
The offense: Putting those awesome mouth watering sluchies in cup that FALLS APART WITH THE TOUCH OF A STRAW can no longer be tolerated!!! There’s only so many time I can get a lemonberry slush stain out of a car seat without all the scrubbing eventually wearing a hole in the fabric.
The justice: The next time it happens I get to tie the roller-skating waitress to the back bumper of the car and she can follow me to the upholstery cleaner’s
Cracker Barrel
The offense: The only thing this restaurant does right is give something to do to distract you from the ignorance that practically hangs in the air like smell of the apple butter candles available for purchase in the trademarked gift store. What is it about golf tees and triangles that cause me to lose track of time? Here’s just a glimpse of all that went wrong Monday night: The waitress wouldn’t quit holding her tray of hot coffee over Fred’s head, the bus boy spun around and nearly clobbered him with a tub of dirty plates, the food took 2 hours to arrive, Fred’s pancake came covered in junk instead plain like we begged, the sunny side up eggs got turned into scrambled, no cornbread, cold mashed potatoes, the waitress didn’t know the difference between French and Ranch dressing (she literally looked at the white goop and said that is French!!)….I’m surprised we are still alive after all of that.
The justice: Honestly even in my imagination I can’t think of a way to make these peoples lives worse. Obviously the employees there have committed some horrible act in life or they would be somewhere other than Cracker Hell as I shall now refer to it. I just ask they incorporate some flames into their logo so people get a better idea of where they are about to enter.
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