Whenever I go through the drive thru, I have one. Simple. Ask.
"no cheese on that burger, PLEASE."
Emphasis on please.
"Yea sure."
They say.
I drive up to the window. All of the wonderful smells of fries and burgers with bacon coming through the window as I hand over my card for payment. They quickly handover my drink first. A sweet tea... if you must know. They are charging my card. My heart rate is rising. My anxiety is through the roof. They hand over my card and say, "just a moment" while handing me back my card, now accompanied by a short receipt with a survey on it. I get even more nervous.
No... I'm not worried about my payment. You see... I am ordering a very special burger. My burger is being asked for without cheese. This is huge. And there is a 90% chance they will fuck it up.
Anyways, they hand me my bag. I trust them this time. I look in the bag as I'm pulling away and the next foodie drives up behind me to receive their delicious, artery clogging meal. My heart sinks. I can already smell it.
There's cheese.
I start to break down. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I don't know what I expected I guess. Maybe I shouldn't have to tear apart my bag of food and check if there is that disgusting yellow piece of plastic attached into my burger's patty? Maybe I should just be able to go home and open my bag an don't be surprised? Maybe I just want to be like normal people? Maybe I don't want to get home and have to use a butter knife to scrape that nasty mess off my burger? I deserve a hot meal like everyone else. I shouldn't have to get surgical with this shit.
I'm so done. I'm so fucking done. I'm fucking crying. I now start to think about other things that depress me and how much of a failure I am.
I am hurting.
"no cheese on that burger, PLEASE."
Emphasis on please.
"Yea sure."
They say.
I drive up to the window. All of the wonderful smells of fries and burgers with bacon coming through the window as I hand over my card for payment. They quickly handover my drink first. A sweet tea... if you must know. They are charging my card. My heart rate is rising. My anxiety is through the roof. They hand over my card and say, "just a moment" while handing me back my card, now accompanied by a short receipt with a survey on it. I get even more nervous.
No... I'm not worried about my payment. You see... I am ordering a very special burger. My burger is being asked for without cheese. This is huge. And there is a 90% chance they will fuck it up.
Anyways, they hand me my bag. I trust them this time. I look in the bag as I'm pulling away and the next foodie drives up behind me to receive their delicious, artery clogging meal. My heart sinks. I can already smell it.
There's cheese.
I start to break down. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I don't know what I expected I guess. Maybe I shouldn't have to tear apart my bag of food and check if there is that disgusting yellow piece of plastic attached into my burger's patty? Maybe I should just be able to go home and open my bag an don't be surprised? Maybe I just want to be like normal people? Maybe I don't want to get home and have to use a butter knife to scrape that nasty mess off my burger? I deserve a hot meal like everyone else. I shouldn't have to get surgical with this shit.
I'm so done. I'm so fucking done. I'm fucking crying. I now start to think about other things that depress me and how much of a failure I am.
I am hurting.