I don't know what it is about Wendy's-- I don't go to any fast food place very often, but twice I've stopped to get a Turkey and Swiss sandwich only to be told that they were out of them. Another time they were out of potatoes, and this doesn't even count the almost constant failure at getting a burger without mayo on it-- it seems to me if you sell food you should probably be careful not to run out of it-- and if you do it shouldn't happen twice.
I was in this same Wendy's once when the manager of the place, the manager mind you, slammed his fist on the counter and yelled "Jesus Christ!" because the debit card machine wasn't working again. So it's always an interesting place to visit.
So one fine day I stop in and decide to get a Junior Burger off the dollar menu, (no mayo please-- and I'm always amazed at the look I get when I ask for none-- it's like I'm un-American for not liking the stuff).
All right, so I place my order and I just happen to look down into the food prep area where I see a gigantically large (some politically incorrect folk my say FAT) young lady reaching up over the food counter to get the mustard and her bare naked stomach peeks out from under her shirt and over her pants and touches the bun my burger is going to be sitting on.
Like a marine corp sniper I keep my steely blue eyes locked on the process of this burger-- meat, onions, pickles, toss it into the wrapper slide it into the tray, the girl at the counter bags it and hands it to me with a snaggletooth crooked smile and says thanks.
I stand there like the bag she handed me is radioactive.
I mean, what am I supposed to do?
So I stammer for a second, my brain trying to recap both what I saw and how to relate the story and I ask for the manager. Within seconds, Johnny Handslam is there asking me if there is a problem.
"I'd like a different burger please. Your clerk touched this one with her stomach."
"As she was making the burger her stomach touched the bun. I saw it right through here." I gesture between the shake machine and the fry warmer.
He checks out the view and then looks at me like I just told him the Venusians were behind the assassination of President Kennedy and they replaced Lee Harvey Oswald with a giant rabbit, all while I sit with my aluminum foil hat chowing down on a fistful of Kibbles and Bits (tm).
"Can we get this guy another burger please." He says as he takes my bag and tosses it into the trash, walking back into his office.
The process begins again.
The large (I never said FAT) woman takes another bun and puts it in the same place. There's an episode of The Twilight Zone where Dennis Weaver is caught in a Groundhog Day type of horrible situation which continues over and over again and I'm smack dab in the middle of it.
I turn in abject horror-- looking out the other way. Don't look! I tell myself. Pretend it isn't happening. It could be worse, her bare ass could be brushing up against it, and after all she looks pretty clean, I'm sure in the shower she lifts up those folds and gets them sprightly white--
I spin just in time to see it again. Her bare stomach, squeezing out between her too short shirt and above her too tight pants drops down firmly on the bun that is destined to be my burger's home in about two more seconds.
I debate just running out of the place, Three Stooges style, or I could hand the whole burger to the obviously not disabled guy who is holding the will work for food sign right outside the door.
As luck would have it Johnny Smackdown walks by again. I stop him and in as polite a way as I can muster, to which he gives me a look like what is my problem.
I get a little ticked off and I tell him to watch as she makes a sandwich. At first he's all "I don't see a thing" and then he lurches like he just opened a bag of maggots which tells me he's seen it.
He looks at me sheepishly and whispers "I'm really sorry about that."
I never went back after that. I figured with the running out of food, the mayo incidents and the tummy roll special, some devine force was sending me a message that I shouldn't ignore.
So the next time you're contemplating the drive thru at one of these places remember my little tale and park and go inside. You'll get some exercise and possibly avoid body fluids you might not want on your food.
Or else you can just order it without the stomach lint.