My stomach growled at me in protest. Of all the edible items in my apartment, none of them seemed to satisfy my hunger. Do I want frozen chicken? Nope. Frozen pizza? Nah, that would take too long. Frozen pasta? I didn't feel like being a chef today. Finally, after prolonged suffering, I decided to let it go. Today, I'd be lazy and get something out.
Before I could even offer my mind suggestions of places to eat, it had already been made up. Without a split second of indecision, I was on my way to the one fast food establishment that always satisfied my craving. The golden arches crumbled, the king bowed, and the chicken flew the coop at the majesty of this beloved culinary empire. My eyes watered from emotional appreciation at how lucky I had been to live just down the street from the 9th wonder of the world. It could've also been the pollen in hindsight.
Like they say, hindsight is 2020. Come to think of it, I don't want to think of 2020. So, I will disregard the hindsight. And pollen.
By the time I had sorted out my thoughts, I was already in the drive through of the most wonderful fast food on Earth. The menu was brightly laced with a striking array of colors. Each item looked just as delicious as the ones surrounding it. My eyes couldn't help but dart from one to the other, trying to figure out which one I wanted today. This beautiful place was only 5 minutes away from where I lived, so I could come here any time I wanted. I rolled down the window as I prepared to order. I took in a deep breath. Sadly, I couldn't smell the delicious Mexican food from where I sat. But, unfortunately, the pollen invaded again so my nose joined my eyes in the communal watering on my face.
I was ready. Within a breath, I had placed my order for the cheesy gordita crunch combo with sweet tea and a chicken ranchero burrito. Both tacos hard. No sauce. I used to order sauce, but I began to realize that the employees assumed I wanted to feed my entire apartment complex with hot sauce. So, whenever I asked for sauce, they gave me at least half of their inventory in my bag.
After placing my order, I sat patiently behind the van in front of me. Being the observant person I am, I noticed that the lady in front of me only ordered nacho fries. No combo. No drinks. Nothing to worry about. I'd be in and out of this drive through in a few minutes. I sat back, relaxed, and waited.
Little did I know that this would be the longest wait I'd ever endured in a fast food drive through. I took in a deep sigh of frustration, this time with the window closed. The pollen got me once. Fool me once, shame on pollen. Fool me twice, and I deserve the allergies.
My curious nature could no longer contain itself as I witnessed one of the most convoluted exchanges I'd ever seen. Ahead of me was a van with one lady in it playing rock paper scissors or violently signing to the employee in the window. I couldn't help myself. I slowly lowered my window and listened.
"'Scuse me! Sir! SIR!" She violently sassed.
"Yes?" He replied.
"There ain't nuff fries in this Nacho Fries! This what I ordered?"
"Yes Ma'am. That is the only size our Nacho Fries come in." He said gently, trying to defuse the situation.
"I paid this much...for this AMOUNT of fries?! Nu uh. Imma need more fries than that." She retorted.
The window gently shut as she sat back in her chair and complained audibly to her alter ego. A few moments later, the employee slid her a few more fries and profusely apologized.
"Mhmmmm...nah I wanna speak to your manager!" She aggressively attituded. (Yes, I know "Attituded" isn't a word, but if you saw how this woman was acting, you'd contact Webster to make it one.)
"Okay. One moment." The guy said and slowly closed the window again. She again started a discussion with no one in particular. It was like she had two shoulder divas, and each one had a worse attitude than she did. In a split second, the manager came to the window with cash in hand and apologized once again to the lady.
"Thank YOU!" She said and slid her window up. She then proceeded to sit there and count the change. I sat appalled. This woman...got an extra orders of fries...and money back for her fries that she got two of.
It was at this moment that she finally decided to slide her van down the street with the speed of a turtle with wheels, and then left. When I finally managed to pull up to the window, after my beard had grown in fully and my missing person's report was filed, the guy looked at me with eyes of pure sorrow. He looked like the husk of the employee he once was. You could see his life go before his eyes as he asked me for my card, and dejectedly inserted it into his register.
I wish I could've done something to cheer him up, but all I could do was be as polite and easy going as I could be. I even apologized to him for asking for a straw for my drink, to help him feel better. He nodded his approval, gave me the straw with withered, shaking fingers, and let me go. All of my food was present, and I was happy.
I still think about the poor soul from time to time. How is he doing? Did he make it back home to his loving family? Did he have a family? I sometimes think about these things while I sit down and chomp on my Taco Bell food, but it will be okay. I will be back.
It is said that the drive through diva still haunts the Taco Bell drive through to this day. Employees wander the kitchen at night hearing her voice, asking them for the extra fries they're about to throw away. Randomly, two dollars will go missing from the register and they know who did it, but are too terrified to say. I don't work at Taco Bell, but I can tell you one thing. After that incident, they may start treating their fries like their hot sauces. You ask for one order, and get enough to feed your entire apartment complex.
Actually, now I'm wanting nacho fries...
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