I would just like to let all the fat-assed little pimply-faced girls who work at Starbucks know that there is no Starbucks here at the end of the world, I wouldn't buy my coffee there if there was, I don't particularly like Starbucks coffee anyway, and therefore, fatass, when you say "grande" in response to my order of a small coffee I think you are talking about your extremely large behind.
Small fucking coffee, black. Too hard for you? I'm paying four bucks for it, I should be able to call it whatever I want. In fact, for four bucks you should be working topless. And don't start asking me aboout what kind of small coffee I want. There is only one kind of coffee, hot. Not iced, that would be tea. If I want coffee it's black, hot and bitter. Like my women.
I would expect this kind of crap coming out of Starbucks, which is like a Gap only serves coffe and provides a place for salesmen to meet and bitch about their last call and check their email, fat girls to drink 50000000 calorie "coffee" drinks and update the bad poetry on their mySpace page and homosexual guys who comb their hair backwards and wear girl pants. Starbucks has some built-in pretentions. Mallitude we called it when we were younger. For some reason, the kids making $3.25 an hour at the places with cool clothes were thought of as cooler than the kids making $3.25 at Sears. And the total dorks making bank at McDonalds were fry-oil smelling freaks who no one liked, but they were LOADED!
But how do you deal with attitude from a person who works at Subway?
Yesterday I was driving back from Indianapolis and I did not want to stop and eat at McDonalds because I didn't want to shit all over my car. So I stopped at Subway. I ordered a wrap, it looked good in the picture. The girl took the wrap, placed it on the counter and stared at me for a good four minutes. Seconds before I was about to tell her I was married she asked in dulcet tones, "Waddayawanton
it." So I asked her what comes on it and she said , "nuthin". He parents must be so proud.
So I asked her what people normally order on it and she started putting all sorts of crap in the damn thing then asked me what kind of cheese I wanted. Now, looking at the picture on the menu I could see there was all sorts of stuff in the wrap, and some kind of cheezy substance, so I asked her to put the "regular stuff that's in the picture." Evidently that was the wrong thing to say, because she informed me that she didn't know what kind of cheese was in the picture but it was probably Mexican. OK, I said, Mexican it is. She then told me the Mexican wasn't shredded and I should get the shredded. OK. I did. Then she microwaved the shredded cheese product, along with the chicken-flavored meat product, dropped this steaming pile of "goodness" on to my wrap full of factory-raised vegetable product and asked me what sauce I wanted, like Ranch?
Lemme ask you all a question......WHY THE HELL DO THEY HAVE PICTURES ON THE MENU?
Seriously. I mean obviously there is a way to make a mexican Chicken Wrap and there's the pile of garbage I got because they want me to make all the decisions. I made a goddamn decision, I wanted a Mexican Chicken Wrap. Make me a Mexican Chicken Wrap, don't ask me if I want ranch dressing on it if the menu says it comes with Ranch Dressing on it. I obviously want the Ranch Dressing, I ordered the fucking wrap didn't I? I didn't say ," One Mexican Chicken Wrap, no lettuce onion, "tomatoes", chicken, cheese, peppers or Ranch Dressing please." did I ? Hell no!
I never go into Subway and now I know why. I never read the State Department Guide on negotiating sandwich retrieval from Subway employees.
News to the Subway guys, you are trying to be better than the McDonalds' and Wendy's of the world, well, I got some news for you. When you go into one of these places, you order, they give. You can change them if you pick the nasty crap off. If I wanted to make my own damn sandwich, I'd do it.
You know, they've got some guys back at Subway International Headquarters and Tanning Salon who spend months figuring out how to make a sandwich out of mostly reclaimed styrofoam and processed ham that will taste exactly the same no matter where you buy it, be it in a kiosk at the bus station or in a storefront between the wig shop and the methadone clinic. I have a feeling they had a pretty good idea of what should go on a Mexican Chicken Wrap. I didn't and neither did little Susie Buttercup there.
When I go to a really nice, 5 star restaraunt, I don't expect to build my own entree. There's no Salad Bar at La Forchette. You know why? Because the if the waiter asked what kind of dressing you wanted on your cut grass salad on a bed of cous-cous lightly flavored with zest of fresh Solomon Island Penis Gourd, three quarters of you jerks would ask for the low-fat french.