March 25, 2019

moobs and pillows

We have a habit of pretending to consider our dining options while driving to The Lodge, but we invariably end up in the drive-thru at the Wendy's on our exit.  The fries would get cold otherwise, you see, even though we don't order fries.  This is the same Wendy's where The Kid swore he wasn't killing prostitutes in GTA5 and where he loudly asked who the fuck puts mayonnaise on their hot dogs, always when the window was open.


The Wendy's employees who overheard him gave us a Look at the time, but so what?  We've never seen them again and likely never will.

There's a problem, though.

It seems there is a dedicated, hard-working, committed teenage girl working the drive-thru now.  She's helped us the last three times we've ordered.  I like her.  Her smile is genuine, and when I say, "Thank you," she doesn't say, "My pleasure!"

I was that girl.  I worked at Wendy's for four years, beginning the day I turned fifteen.  And the drive-thru became my preferred shift, with the satisfaction that came from kinetic mastery of writing, making a soda, using a foot pedal and talking through the speaker, all at once.  My smile was the real thing, too.  I loved dealing with the people who pulled up.

Mostly.

There was the time the gross guy with the hairy chest and moobs in a white wife-beater pulled up in a convertible and wouldn't let go of the $10 bill when I tried to take it.  I simply shut the window and walked off and told my manager, Dale, a burly mustache-having guy from Michigan.  He walked over and opened the sliding window and asked if there was a problem.  There was, of course, no problem.

That's the most memorable one.  I know I saw other things, but I can't recall them.

The teenage girl who has helped us at Wendy's, though, is going to remember this past Friday night.

We got some very awesome pillow cases as a Christmas gift last year, two that say FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK, or something to that effect, and one that says, I'M NOT ALWAYS A BITCH - JUST KIDDING - GO FUCK YOURSELF.

We love them.

And because while riding in our van, Molly becomes a thirty-five-pound lap dog with very pointy claws who wants to bond with P.J. on a molecular level and watch the world from the front passenger seat, P.J. grabbed one of the pillows as we were leaving to use as protection for her poor upper thighs.  Molly lay on that instead.

Words-side up, of course.

I don't have Photoshop and even if I did, I would suck at using it, so this is an approximation of what was seen in our van from the vantage point of the Wendy's drive-thru:




1 comment:

  1. Hahahahahahahahahhaha…..wheeze..hahahahahhahahahahahahhahaha Pity I can't add a photo here, Doc loves placing his head on our 'I'm not a bitch' one

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