Monday, May 22, 2006
Wendy's. Bah.
We went to Wendy's tonight. We hadn't been to Wendy's for quite some time; their food is good and all, but, well, here's why we seldom go there.
They have NEVER, in all the years they've been in this town, gotten my order right. Ever. Drive through, inside. . . . it doesn't matter. It's wrong EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
How hard can it be to make a single with mustard?
Hub: Single with ketchup, mustard, pickles, extra onion, tomato, and lettuce. They get it right.
MIL: Single with mustard, onion, tomato, and lettuce. They get it right.
Me: Single with mustard. It's wrong every time. It's as if Wendy's employees have been ordered to never allow a burger with only one condiment out of the kitchen.
What's up with this weirdness?
I don't understand it. And if I take it back, it's always the worst inconvenience in the universe for them. Their sighs could be heard four counties over.
So I just scrape off the mound of stuff and make the best of it.
Customer service my Aunt Fanny.
See you in six months, Wendy's.
It's really gone downhill since Dave died.
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