Are the curly fries REALLY that good? Does my husband REALLY want a roast beef sandwich THAT bad? Because I want to protect the innocent, I will stop describing this fast food chain right there, but, trust me, it ain't Chick-Fil-A. It seems that the last few times I have frequented this little fast food dining establishment, I always get the same guy at the check-out window. This needs to stop niz-ow. He is freaking me out. Here is a sample of our conversation the last time I was there.
At the outside menu:
Him: "HELLooooooooooo. Welcome to Barbies! What can I get for you today?" (I'm pretty sure he is skipping as he talks in his mic)
*Here is where I bang my head against the head rest and stare up at my ceiling for a moment as I know it's "that cheerful-in-a-weird-way guy" and know the next few minutes in this drive-thru line are going to be hard to stomach*
Me: "Uhhhhhhh...#10. The chicken sandwich. I also want a kid's meal with turkey..."
Him: "You want that with juice or chocolate milk?" (he is now doodling unicorns & rainbows on a napkin while smiling VERY WIDELY as he waits for my response)
Me: "Chocolate milk." (I'm doodling myself hightailin' it out of there)
Him: "And what would you like to drink?"
Him: "I'm sorry. We don't have Coke, only Pepsi on the rocks. HAHAHAHAHA!!"
Me: (staring blankly at the outside menu)
Him: "Will Pepsi be okay?"
Me: "That's fine. I also want a 2 roast beef sandwiches, curly fries and a large Pepsi". [my husband says those roast beef sandwiches are small...]
Him: "Okay. That's one chicken sandwich combo with a Pepsi, one kid's meal with a turkey sandwich and chocolate milk and two roast beef sandwiches with curly fries and a large Pepsi. That'll be $1,235.00" [I'm exaggerated the total a wee bit because I'm lazy and don't want to figure it out fo' real]
Now I drive around with my eyes tightly shut as I don't want to open them to find my "friend" waiting for me at the window. My time is delayed for a moment because I hit a concrete pole jutting out of the ground. Dang it. This incident eventually persuades me to open my eyes to see Mr. Chipper with his furry arm already extended out of the window with my drink before I even arrive parallel to him.
Him: "How you doing?" [he says it just like you think he says it- like a guy from Chicago, but he's not from Chicago]
Me: "Fine, thanks". [I AM being cordial. Just like a cordial cherry. Why are there such thing as cordial cherries? Are these super nice, super sweet cherries, much like my fast food friend here?]
Him: "Here's your bourbon straight up and on the rocks. Drink responsibly" [He has a flat expression at this point. It's way of delivering what he believes is just hysterical dry humor. He also says "drink responsibly" even if he doesn't do a bourbon joke beforehand] "and here is the rest of your delicious food".
Now I begin cringing because I just know the moment will happen at any second and it will be before my doodled dreams become a reality (me peeling out of the drive-thru line with my food tightly clutched to my chest).
Him: "Thank you, Ms. Kelley". [He read my name from my debit card]
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! He said MY NAME!! (Atreyu, give me a new name...... Sorry. Neverending Story tangent.) Oh to tha no! I know I may be ultra picky about some things, but I DO NOT LIKE when salespeople, ESPECIALLY people working in the drive-thru line, use my name when I have not introduced myself. A name is a precious thing and should not be used just by anybody (pssst...if you read this blog, you can use my name. You can include it in poems, songs, raps, articles, blogs, public service announcements, commercials, nursery rhymes, advertisements, jingles or lullabies). Except for the time I introduced myself along with my favorite colors and a quick rendition of a dance I choreographed to "What a Feeling" from Flashdance to all of the people at McDonald's during the busy lunch hour, no fast food employee has EVER used my name! He's the only one. And I find it incredibly icky. Icky, I tell you. Simply icky. Ickgusting. Icktesque. Icgross.
Am I high maintenance? Are you?