Drive-Thrus (last edited 04/02/03)
Can someone please tell me why drive-thru employees now feel the need to introduce themselves?
"Hi. My names Tom. Welcome to Taco Bell."
Taco Bell! So
that's where I am. Thanks Tom!
I guess the big backlit menu and your colossal fucking sign were a little too subtle; I was thinking this was a toll booth or the entrance to a national park.
Guess there’s not much point in asking about the fire risk now, huh.
Do I sound like I’ve been drinking,
Tom? And what makes you think I even
want to know your name?
Are your expecting me to return your little introduction?
"Honey, this is Tom. Tom operates a headset in the FM band and works with melted cheese."
Look Tom, I've got enough stuff to remember without you burdening me with extraneous information.
I'm
trying to remember what everybody
wants, and there are cars filled with
hungry people lined up behind me.
No. Don't start making suggestions. I don't care if I do save forty-three cents by going with the combo. I shouldn't be eating this shit in the first place.
The only reason I'm here, Tom, is that I didn't get around to buying groceries. You're here, so you
can buy groceries.
I'm not so sure you're the one to be giving out financial advice.
You're a vending machine with arms,
Tom. Just bring me my fucking food!
Look, I don't want trouble. I just want three Quesada’s and three large Cokes.
What do you mean, "Would Pepsi be ok?"
If I'd wanted Pepsi, I'd have asked for Pepsi. What's that? You don't carry Coke?!
What kind of place is this?
Fine. Give me 3 large Pepsi's. No ice.
Do I want to upsize that? There you go making suggestions again, Tom.
Let me explain something and maybe you can pass this on to head office.
There are
three sizes of soft drink: small, medium, and large.
It's been like that since the dawn of time. There is no such size as up. Up is a direction,
not a size.
And for the record there's no such size as "super" or "biggie" either.
I know what you’re up to, Tom. You’re about as a subtle as first date who shows up at the door carrying condoms and a camcorder.
This isn’t about you being concerned I might be really thirsty or could use extra fries. It’s about
money.
It’s about maximizing your margins: charging fifty-five cents for another two cents worth of syrup and telling me it’s the
BEST VALUE.
Best value for who, Tom? Your
shareholders? People who make large pants? Practitioners of
liposuction?!
I’m hungry, Tom. Not stupid.
That’s right. I’m hungry and I’m smart and the food you sell has
no value.
Your fucking menu reads like a business plan for a cardiology clinic.
Jesus, this place’s “treat of the week” should be an angioplasty balloon.
The last thing
anybody needs is more of this stuff.
And what, a 300% markup isn’t enough for you people? You’ve got to make
more?
First it was too much ice in the soda. Three good sips, no more beverage.
Then it was napkins. You’re selling people deep fried finger-food and you guys leave out the napkins.
“Well, his steering wheels all
slippery and he might accidentally swerve into oncoming-traffic and
kill someone, but we saved a penny. Hi-five. “
And now it’s ketchup. Ketchup costs what, three cents a package?
Do you know how many times I’ve driven away without ketchup so you guys can save three cents?
Who orders fries without ketchup? I’ll tell you who,
no one!
When I order fries, ketchup, by
its very nature, is
implied.
What’s next? “Oh, we didn’t know you wanted it
cooked. Would you like to upsize your beef
tartar? “
