Like most families we probably eat out more than we should. We do our best to cook 3-4 times a week, but being the ultra-popular people we are (wink wink nod nod) there's just no time to do that what with all the regatta gallas we have to attend. Fortunately for us and unfortunately for our bank account there are tons of places to eat within minutes of the house.
Now I don’t know if there’s been a recent influx of moron’s (or de-dit-did-dees as I like to call them) being pumped into the employment pool or just that nobody other than a bunch of idiots want to flip burgers all day, regardless of why for some reason over the past month all of our fav-o-rite places have gone way down hill due to these de-dit-did-dees. The consequence is that instead of Road Rage…I know have Restaurant Rage!!!
Today I’m naming names and dishing out some imaginary justice.
The Offense: HOW IN THE FRIK DO YOU MESS UP A SALAD!!!! I’m not the de-dit-did-dee here. I know you’re not back there making them by hand. Suffering from little nicks as you cut up a hundred chickens into cubes for the days lunch crowd. NO THEY COME PRE-ASSEMBLED!!! So now not only do I have to count every single thing I’ve ordered and match that number with the total items in the bag, I gotta frik’n check to see if my salad has oranges all over it cause you can’t tell the difference between Chicken BLT and Mandarin Cranberry. Fruit belongs in a cup. Vegetables go on a salad. GET IT RIGHT!!! Oh and had I known you were going to throw it at me I would’ve brought my catchers mitt. The sonic boom from the chocolate milk you launched nearly cracked my windshield.
The justice: Face the firing squad. Since you can’t tell the difference between bacon and oranges, you will be placed in front of a wall, stripped, and a Dave Thomas impersonator will alternately throw pieces of raw bacon and whole oranges at you. Let's see how quickly you can dodge a grapefruit going 90mph Speedy.
The offense: YOU NEARLY GOT ME KILLED AFTER INSTRUCTING ME TO PULL FORWARD IN A SPOT WHERE NOBODY ELSE COULD GET AROUND ME!!! Now I’m not going to mention how you ALWAYS mess up my order, because at this point it’s my fault for going and I assume it’s because you put crack in your double quarter pounder. I’m addicted and I no longer care what’s in the bag, I just have to have it. No, what I’m most concerned about here is how I never thought I’d see the day where I’d get beaten by an angry mob over a chicken biscuit. I swear the next time (cause even after all of this I’m still an addict) you ask me to pull forward I’m gonna refuse. I’d rather risk having my food spit in then being atomic wedgied in front of Fred just because you didn’t design the parking lot to allow for extra drive-thru space.
The justice: Simple. Dress up like Ronald McDonald, make up and all, then proceed to the nearest Burger King at precisely 12:00. Stand outside next to the cashier (as they are often out there taking orders during peak times) and every time you hear somebody order a Whopper you must hit them in the face with a Big Mac. You can leave once the King’s minions finish torturing you.
Zaxby’s (or those that pass out toddler toys)
The offense: Zaxby’s is a local chicken shack and although this is a common irritant regardless of where we go, since it happened to me there last they are the ones I’m going to take my Restaurant Rage out on. Fred is old enough now to eat pizza, fries, hamburgers, nuggets…when we go out he gets a kids meal. Most places are kid friendly and when asked they will switch the plastic piece of junk that coincides with the latest box office cartoon for something soft with round edges and no tiny pieces. However like in the case with Zaxby’s they will give you a toy only a de-dit-did-dee could enjoy…WHY ARE YOU GIVING OUT PICTURES OF ROOSTERS WITH HOLES WHERE THE FEET GO!!! I understand they are supposed to be finger puppets, but how the frik is a 1 year-old supposed to know he’s got to stick two fingers in there and pretend the chicken is walking around??!?!?!?! You may as well have given him a copy of the Wall Street Journal and invited him to play the stock market.
The Justice: We make each employee sit down, hold their hand out, and for every one of those stupid paper puppets they passed out they get a paper cut just like the one I got trying to show Fred how much "fun" they are.
I'm not done yet folks, check back tomorrow to see what I have in store for the de-dit-did-dees at Cracker Barrel, Subway, and Sonic.