Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Witch Gave Me One Fork

I've a good mind to put the local Hardee's out of business. You know I can. Why don't you just ask 7-Eleven and Sonic, huh?

Saturday. Hick had to work until noon. The Pony missed spending the night with his grandma Friday, because of the weather and no school. So I arose at the crack of pre-dawn so we could do our shopping. My mom met us at Walmart at 7:30  to pick him up for the day. Genius slept until 10:00, painted the boys' bathroom, and escaped my clutches to bowl in his league.

After watching part of a Glee marathon while tending multiple loads of laundry, I headed back to town for some Save A Lot necessities. Hick had just arrived home. He was putting up St. Louis Blues border in the bathroom. I asked if he wanted a Hardee's Red Burrito Taco Salad for lupper. That's the meal that combines lunch and supper. Genius came up with the term in his younger days.

I knew that The Pony would be fed to the point of foundering by his grandma, and that Genius would have bowling alley food. And I'm a wizard at getting out of toiling and troubling over bubbling cauldrons of eye of newt and toe of frog. Besides, I was exhausted after spending two days at home with the boys, who seem to think that we live on a homestead on the frontier where womenfolk have nothing better to do than cook three times a day, separate meals for each individual, washing up the dishes after each feeding.

The Save A Lot shopping was accomplished with nary an indecent proposal or inhalation of foul body emissions. I scooted on over to Hardee's. They're having a special, you see. Two taco salads for six dollars. That's a downright steal. They normally cost $4.99 each. Oh, I know they're not healthy in a salad sense. But when you consider that half is your lunch, and half is your supper, it balances out.

I pulled into the drive-thru lane behind two cars and a truck. We advanced at a reasonable pace. The other drivers pulled around to the window, out of my line of sight. When I got to the speaker, no one was there. Nobody asking me to wait a minute, nobody advising me to order when ready, nobody asking to help me. I might as well have been dropped into The Langoliers. Four minutes ticked by. I contemplating driving around to the window and asking what the deal was, ordering there. My radio was on. I'm sure they could hear that a car was at the speaker. I thought of honking. You know. Just to see if my horn worked. I don't use it very often. But instead, I said, "Um. Is anybody going to take my order?" And IMMEDIATELY, a girl said, "May I help you?"

I ordered two taco salads. "Would you like anything to drink with that?" No. Hick can drink at home. Not in that way. But you know what I mean. No reason to waste money on sodas there, when I can get a giant one at the gas station chicken store for $1.39, or $0.99 for a refill. "If your order is correct as shown on the screen, you can pull around." Well. The screen showed only their add for some box of hand-dipped chicken strips. I wasn't about to wait four more minutes for her to remedy that situation. I pulled around anyway, to pick up lupper for Hick and myself to the tune of $6.48, cheaper than the bowling alley lunch of Genius, but not so cheap as The Pony's free Grandma feed.

The window gal fiddled around getting my change. She apologized for my wait. Then she handed me a bag containing our taco salads. When I got home, I saw that she had included ONE fork. Not that it mattered for eating purposes, because at home, we have our own forks. I should know. I wash them three times a day. But it's the principle of the matter. She put in ONE fork. Like I was going to use it to eat both taco salads.



Kathy's Klothesline said...

Did you get napkins?

Linda O'Connell said...

You probably don't WANT to know what she was thinking. I odered a breakfast sandwich with no sausage, and the poor girl couldn't figure it out.

Tammy said...

Or, as Linda said what I was thinking, you don't want to know what was going on back there that she couldn't employ proper drive-thru procedures.

Bailey Hammond said...

Hardees always forgets to give me jelly. And sugar. And cream. I should know better by now, but really, you'd think they could get the order right at least a small percentage of the time. So, I keep on trusting in the law of probability.

Val said...

Yes. Three. Because I'm an incredibly sloppy hog while presumably shoveling two taco salads into my face with only one fork.

I'm surprised she could find her way to work. Where did you go for breakfast, the Jersey Shore?

As long as she was wearing plastic gloves and a hairnet, I suppose anything goes.

Well, that, and a dollar thirty-nine, will get you a 44 oz. soda at my gas station chicken store. And please don't tell me that you're one of those people who call it a pop. Or a Coke.

Bailey Hammond said...

I live in the deep South. We call everything by it's proper name. Coke is Coke; Sprite is Sprite; Root Beer is either Barq's or Mug; Dr. Pepper is Dr. Pepper; and the list continues. We don't equivocate.

Val said...

I am quite relieved to hear that. I have a friend from Kansas who enjoys a good bottle of pop. She's a Dr. Pepper kind of gal.

Then she married into a family from South Carolina. Everywhere she went, people kept offering her Coke. She was a bit exasperated, being a Pepper, not a Cokehead. But also being thirsty, she finally asked what kind of Coke they had. And they replied, "Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Sprite, Dr. Pepper, Coke, Diet Coke, Root Beer...whatever kind of Coke you want."

And to think, she used to make fun of ME for calling it soda.