Every day, I come across far many more things that piss me off than those that bring joy into my inner being. They say you have to stop and smell the roses? No. I say you have to stop and document the turd piles. That way others can benefit from your map of life’s little land mines, and the world is a better place than it would have been if people weren’t so self-centered and blocking sidewalks all the time with their goddamn rose smelling.
Hence, the PO Box. In this box I will place all the things that piss me off. Man, I hope this box is big.
To kick it off, I’ll share with you an experience I had tonight at the Wendy’s drive-thru. I was craving a milkshake. A real milkshake made with real ice cream. None of this “ice-milk” malarkey. Seriously, if you are serving this blatantly phony version of milkshakes, don’t even call them “shakes.” Instead, call them “lies that you can’t suck easily through a straw.” Wendy decided to call her brand of bullcrap a “Frosty Shake”. I should have just gone to a nearby Jack In The Box instead of pulling the lazy move of trying the closest fast food joint. Here’s the convo at the drive-thru speaker:
Wendy: Hello. Welcome to Wendy’s. Order when you’re ready.
Me: Are your shakes made from real ice cream?
Wendy: (in a slightly upset tone) They’re Frostys.
Me: Yeah… that sounds like not real ice cream. What is that?
Wendy: …
Me: Is that soft serve?
Wendy: …
Me: …
Wendy: …
Me: Okay. Thanks then.
Then I sped off around the corner, where I had to wait in back of the poor car who was stuck at the window, another victim, no doubt, to this incredibly helpful food industry professional. And by then, I couldn’t even back up, because another person had pulled up to the “Attempt To Order Here” sign behind me. Thus, I found myself stuck in a temporal rift, much like James Kirk in Star Trek Generations, still active and alive but surrounded by an empty vacuum of time-stopping incompetence.
I suppose it’s too much to ask people to tell you the truth about their lies. Wendy, if you’re going to sell fake milkshakes, tell me right up front that they are milkfakes. Don’t hide behind your made-up milkfake pseudonym and get indignant when I ask what the hell it is. And BTW, thanks for trademarking Frosty™. You’ve just made the name of a beloved Christmas snowman synonymous with shit. While you’re at it you should trademark the diarrhea people get from your food and call it “Poodolph the Brown Eyed Paindeer™®©.”
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You are so right, by the way have you ever seen the people they hire, I swear they are mentally challenged. True story ,I was in wendy’s when an emlpoyee sneezed and did not wash her hand’s. I was so pissed the manager came over and asked what was wrong and I told her that the employee did not wash. The manager told me that her employee alway’s washes her hand’s ( well not this time) I walked the hell outta there.
Good call, Marc. You don’t want any of that “special sauce” on your food. Ew.