Showing posts with label Idiots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Idiots. Show all posts
Friday, August 5, 2011
10 Surreal Conversations at a Typical Drive-Thru Restaurant
Note: SOM = Skank on Microphone, the nasty dumb-ass that has somehow been granted communication permissions at this establishment. YOU = well, you. Here we go…
ONE
SOM: “Welcomecrackintheboxyourorder?”
YOU: “Okay, I think you just greeted me and want me to order. Can you hang on a minute?”
SOM: “….”
YOU: “Hello?”
SOM: “Are you ready?”
YOU: “No, I just wanted to make sure you heard me say just a minute.”
SOM: “…”
YOU: “Did you hear me?”
SOM: “Are you ready?”
YOU: “Do I just not exist to you until I answer ‘yes’ to that question?”
TWO
SOM: “Sir, please stop honking your horn.”
YOU: “I’m NOT honking my horn. It’s the people behind me.”
SOM: “Why are they honking?”
YOU: “I’m assuming they’re hungry. We’ve been in line for twenty minutes and we haven’t moved an inch.”
SOM: “Could you tell them to stop honking?”
YOU: “I don’t know them. I’m not telling them anything.”
SOM: “You’re closer than me.”
YOU: “Look, can I talk to your manager?”
SOM: “He’s not here, he had to run get some change from the bank and… Hey, is the honking coming from an ugly green Honda Prius?”
YOU: “What? Um… well… yes, it’s an ugly Prius.”
SOM: “That’s my manager. He’s trying to bring me change and you’re in the way. Could you go get the bag and bring it to me?”
THREE
SOM: “Could you please repeat that?”
YOU: “I haven’t said anything yet. Do you understand that the people in front of me aren’t here anymore?”
SOM: “Could you please repeat that?”
FOUR
SOM: “Please pull up to the second window.”
YOU: “Um, there’s only one window.”
SOM: “Oh. That was my last job. Can you just drive until I see you?”
FIVE
SOM: “You want any ketchup with that?”
YOU: “I ordered fries. Why would I not want ketchup?”
SOM: “Some people don’t.”
YOU: “Some people do. Like me.”
SOM: “Look, I’m supposed to ask instead of just give. I don’t make the rules. Ketchup costs money, you know.”
YOU: “Then add it to the cost of the fries and give everybody the damn ketchup.”
SOM: “Fine. Is one packet enough?”
YOU: “I’d like three. There’s only like two drops in one of those things.”
SOM: “That’s a lot of ketchup. Do you know how much sugar that is?”
YOU: “Are we really having this conversation?”
SOM: “I think we’re both talking, so, yes, we are.”
YOU: “Just give me the ketchup.”
SIX
YOU: “I’d like the Atomic Burrito and a large order of Jalapeno Bang-Bangs.”
SOM: “We don’t have chicken.”
YOU: “That burrito has ground beef. What’s with the chicken?”
SOM: “We don’t have it.”
YOU: “But I’m not ordering anything with chicken.”
SOM: “We don’t have chicken.”
SEVEN
SOM: “Would you like to super-size that?”
YOU: “No, thanks.”
SOM: “Would you like to super-size that?”
YOU: “NO! Regular size is fine.”
SOM: “Would you like to super-size that?”
YOU: “Are you some kind of upgrade terrorist? I don’t want the big one, I want the little one.”
SOM: “Bigger is better.”
YOU: “No, it’s not. Not if I don’t want it. God.”
SOM: “God wants you to have bigger things.”
YOU: “Just shoot me in the head.”
SOM: “Would you like the super bullet with that?”
EIGHT
SOM: “Can I take your order?”
YOU: “Uh, I was already ordering. Did you not hear that?”
SOM: “That was Yolanda. She’s on break now.”
YOU: “So Yolanda can leave in the middle of an order?”
SOM: “We have a union. There are rules. I don’t know why you’re here if you don’t support that.”
YOU: “Are you serious?”
SOM: “No, I’m Melvin. Can I take your order?”
NINE
YOU: “Does the Hawaiian Surprise sandwich have tomatoes?”
SOM: “I don’t know.”
YOU: “Is there somebody you can check with? I don’t want tomatoes.”
SOM: “I don’t know people in Hawaii.”
YOU: “Okay, does the person who is making the sandwiches know?”
SOM: “I’m not allowed to go back there.”
YOU: “Is there a manager I can talk to?”
SOM: “He’s not Hawaiian.”
YOU: “Why are you making this so hard?”
SOM: “You’re the one asking all the questions.”
TEN
SOM: “Could you please pull through and park in front of the building?”
YOU: “Why? What’s taking so long?”
SOM: “Your order.”
YOU: “I get that. What, of the things I ordered, is causing the problem?”
SOM: “Everything.”
YOU: “Even the water?”
SOM: “Yes. Especially the water.”
YOU: “How can there be a problem with a cup of water?”
SOM: “Um, no one ever orders that, so we’re not sure what to do.”
YOU: “You don’t know how to put water in a cup? Are you serious?”
SOM: “I’m very serious about food. That’s why I work here. Why are you questioning my values?”
YOU: “I’m not questioning… Look, if we skip the water, can things happen faster?”
SOM: “You’ve already paid. I’m not authorized to do refunds.”
YOU: “The water didn’t cost anything.”
SOM: “But it’s on the receipt. See? Item 4. Water.”
YOU: “Let’s just pretend that you’ve already given me the water and I already drank it, okay? Now, can I just get the rest of the food?”
SOM: “Um, okay.”
YOU: “No more problems?”
SOM: “No. Wait. Yes. Hang on.”
YOU: “What now?”
SOM: “They’re calling me on my headset. One sec. Okay. Okay. Sir, your chicken sandwich?”
YOU: “Oh, God.”
SOM: “Tina’s calling from the kitchen. She says she’s holding the tomato right now. But she doesn’t know what you want her to do with it after that.”
Labels:
Drive-Thru,
Food,
Humor,
Idiots
Friday, July 23, 2010
10 Things You Wish You Could Say to People
1. To the lady in front of me at the Walgreen’s check-out line.
Why do you insist on giving everyone a detailed analysis of your psoriasis condition, bellowing like you have something lodged? And actually showing us one of your alligator patches? No one asked for that, especially not the three small children who are now crying and will never eat pizza again. You have your prescription. Now get out of here and leave us alone.
What in the hell can possibly be taking so long? Is this your first time at the rodeo? You’ve been there twenty minutes. Either you don’t have any money in your account or you are attempting to do something that this machine was not meant to do. And here’s a tip: Simply gazing in bovine wonder at the screen while scratching the side of your head will not make anything happen. This is not a psychic transaction. Punch some buttons!
Have you ever washed your feet in your entire life?
All we can hear is bass. Thumping, skull-crushing bass that is causing nearby buildings to collapse. How can you possibly be enjoying that? There cannot be any pleasure in pounding sounds that rattle your teeth. (On the plus side, hopefully the vibrations are so intense that it will affect your sperm count and you will be unable to reproduce.) And don’t think you’re all street and unidentifiable with those tinted windows. I am writing your tag number down. Because one day, if we elect the right people, it will be perfectly legal to have you thrown in jail for the rest of your life. I will find you.
What are you doing back there that requires you to bounce so much? I’m getting a little tired of being shoved against the table, resulting in involuntary Heimlich maneuvers. I just want to eat my food in peace, without fear of you flipping this booth over and I die with my face mashed into a plate of cheese fries with extra bacon. If your annoying inability to sit still is the result of a medical condition, I apologize and will quietly fasten my seatbelt. But it’s probably not, and my hatred grows with each bounce.
I understand that you’ve lived a long life, and you’re tired. These things happen. But really, why is it necessary to turn your cart sideways, and then proceed to caress every single can of string beans on the shelf? They’re all the same. I could whip out a casserole before you can touch them all.
And when I clear my throat, don’t rub at your bad knee like the sound is coming from there. When I very politely say “Excuse me, could I get by?”, don’t turn and glare at me with a mixture of anger and fright like it’s the Dust Bowl again and I’ve come to take your land because Paw-Paw can’t pay for the pig feed. (“Granny, get your gun!”) Just move. That’s all I want in life.
7. To the person at the gas pump that I’m waiting to access.
I know that you are done with all the intricate steps required for you to fill your car with gasoline. Because I watched your slow ass do every one of those steps while three entire songs played on the radio, and you are back in your car. What are you doing now? Why are you not driving away? Is there an issue with the operation of the vehicle? And whatever you’re looking for in that glove box, it can’t be that important or you would know exactly where it is. Play treasure hunt later. The rest of the world needs to get on with things, even if you don’t.
8. To the people who order something on the menu, and then change everything about it.
Look, you hag, why didn’t you just order the vegetarian burger, hold everything? God.
9. To the person driving the piece-of-crap pickup on the highway, going only thirty miles an hour, causing a backup from here to Corpus Christi as we all glare at your inbred children drooling in the truck bed and count the empty beer cans as they plink off the broken tailgate and slam into our windshields.
10. To my therapist.
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