Well, there’s a lot to choose from here at the drive-thru.
I might as well go with one of those combo meals. That’s got to be the best deal or they wouldn’t feature them like they do. But I don’t want a fried chicken sandwich. I just want a grilled chicken sandwich, fries and a drink, but they don’t have that as one of the featured combo meals.
Let’s see — maybe I can get a grilled chicken sandwich, fries and a drink and it will be near the same price. OK, $3.49 for the sandwich plus ... Where are the fries listed? I don’t see them. Oh, there they are. $1.59. $1.59 for a small fry? Are they peppered with gold flakes? What’s that about? OK, the fried chicken sandwich combo is $5.89. If I add $3.49 plus $1.59, plus a drink. Where are the drinks? Dang, where are they? OK, I’ll go back to $3.49 plus $1.59 equals ... um, uh, nine plus nine equals, carry the, no.
Oh, just forget it — I’ll get the combo.
“May I grrr yrrr ordrrrr?”
“Yeah, I’ll have the fried chicken sandwich combo with a Diet Coke, please. And, can I have that with mustard only on the sandwich?”
“Grrr, rumba yastalitz.”
Huh? What were they asking me? Sounds Russian.
“Excuse me, what did you say?”
“Grrr, rumba yastalitz.”
I can’t understand that. If I say “excuse me” again, they may get mad and spit on my food. I’ll just say yes.
“Would you like to supersize that, sir?”
Why did that come in loud and clear and the other thing didn’t? Oh, well. Should I supersize? Of course not. I just busted the button on my pants reaching down to pick up that quarter on the floorboard. But then again, I’m hungry. Not actually hungry — I have no idea how that feels. I’m American-hungry, meaning the absence of not being full.
But I shouldn’t supersize. That would be foolish.
“Yes, please supersize that.”
Why did I supersize that? I’m such a big, fat dummy.
“Your total will be $6.30. Please pull up to the first window.”
All right, $6.30. I have a $5 bill, a dollar and two quarters. You know, I don’t really need that 20 cents. Should I just say “keep the change”? No, I can’t do that. That would be an insult. Nobody wants a 20 cent tip. Well, I don’t know, maybe some people do.
I have no idea what to tip people. Why hasn’t someone published a tipping guide book. I mean, what do you tip the kid that carries out your groceries? That’s why I always carry out my own groceries — not because I don’t want to help the guy out with a tip, but because I have no idea what an acceptable tip is for that particular chore. I heard it’s $5 a bag for luggage at the airport. It can’t be $5 a bag at the grocery store. That would be, uh, oh, never mind. Maybe if you divide the weight of a piece of luggage by what an average grocery bag weighs ...
“That will be $6.30, sir.”
“Oh, OK, here.”
“Here’s your change. Please go to the next window.”
Why do they do this two-window thing? Is it really more efficient? What if the guy in the first window screws up? Then everybody gets the wrong food. What if the guy behind me ordered a whole bunch of food and I get his food instead? Does that mean I get it for free? Can you get arrested for that? Taking drive-thru food incorrectly handed to you?
“Here you go, sir. Have a good day.”
All right, should I open the bag right here and check to make sure everything is here? No, I can’t. Cars are behind me. I’ll just do a brief check as I drive off ... Dang — mayonnaise!
I guess that’s what “grrr, rumba yastalitz” means.
Len Robbins is the editor of the Clinch County News.