What's the meaning of life?

An answer I may know where we can find it. The fifteen year old girl in the purple shirt that was lurking behind the counter at my most recent excursion to Wendy's seems to grasp the reason.



It was a cold day, I mean a "where are my testicles?" kind of cold, when I decided I would trudge through the snow storm to get myself some greasy eats. I had it all planned out, I was going to get a five piece chicken nugget meal including fries and a coke along with a 1/4lb Single snack burger with no cheese, mayo, mustard or tomato. The omitted toppings are very specific due to my various and extreme food allergies. I travel to Wendy's fairly often as it is the closest fast food joint to my apartment at a minor six blocks away and also due to the fact that I have very little joy in cooking for myself.

This particular order is a regular one for me, it's really one of the few items on the menu I can safely eat without fear of death and/or sickness not to forget the mild case of OCD I suffer from.

Due to the frequency of my visits, I have started to notice a trend at this house of hamburger. They cannot seem to get one single order correct and complete. Every single time I get home with my take out, remove the foil or even simply look in the grease blotched bag something is wrong. This had become something of a sore spot for me, so during my last visit I mentioned to the gentleman serving me that I couldn't understand how this happened every time. He shrugged, said "I am sorry, make sure you check the bag before you leave." An obvious answer, I know. Why didn't I think of that? Well, I assure you I have. I check that bag as often as I can remember.



This time, I didn't need to check the bag, I watched the meat master assemble my dinner, step by step. I was as focused on her hands and my food as she was apparently focused on thoughts of boys and Hanson. Kid's still like Hanson, right? Anyways, needless to say she was more concerned about other things than my needs. After they wrapped up my burger, and started placing it into the bag. I spoke up to my friendly cashier stating "See what I mean? She made my burger with only the things I asked to be left out of it as it's final toppings."... From the back I hear her exclaim after stressing her eyes to read the order screen "OH!!! Those toppings were supposed to be not on the burger!".



After a big facepalm, I repeated my earlier concerns stating nothing is ever made right here, nothing is ever to order, even something as simple as the most basic burger on their menu. At this point I was so incredibly frustrated, all I wanted was my fucking food. This is when every sense of zen eroded, an unknown employee the aforementioned girl behind the counter chimed in with a retort to my issues contsructed of one well thought out sentence "Get used to it." Get used to it? Are you fucking kidding me? She couldn't be serious. The only thing I could say back was "That is possibly the most retarded answer I have ever heard. There is no way you should expect me to get used to it. This is my hard earned money I am spending, all I would like to have is the correct food that I purchase." She walked away with little else to say.



I was utterly floored, blown away and amazed. I then requested the assistance of the shift manager. As she walked, no she sauntered up to me I had a sinking feeling my proceeding words would fall on deaf ears. We need to chance it Disco, I thought to myself. "What's up?" the leader of the pack asked. "Well, I am a little irritated," I confirmed "Every single time I come in here, my order is screwed up... Every time. Listen, I understand this isn't exactly fine dining, but it is still a customer service based business. How is it that your employees can show absolutely no concern? They have jobs, they get paid. They are extremely lucky to have that. I understand that mistakes get made, but every time on the same repeat order? This isn't a hard request to fill." She nodded. After a breath, I continued on my rant "Directly after I told your cashier that this happens, I watched as your cook screwed up yet another order. I corrected them, then continued to talk to him as this child appeared out of no where in one of your uniforms and told me to get used to the mistakes." "This is not something I wanted to hear, all I wanted was my food to be fixed so I could go home and eat. I did not want her to share her thoughts or feelings on the matter. Being someone who has also served in the food industry for sometime, and currently manages a few kitchens I would have fired a cook on the spot for speaking like that to a customer." The Manager told me that she understood. And that she would have a chat with her team and correct their behavior.

"I won't be coming back." She didn't reply.

However, I found something out that day: The meaning of life is simple. People live to be stupid, so give up and get used to it.