Wakin' Up With the King!
In keeping with the fast food theme, I received a call from the good people at Burger King today. They were upset by all of the attention that McDonald's seems to be getting on my page of late, and wondered if I could say a few words about their fine organization.
Of course, I can't do anything for free, so I asked them how much it was worth to them. I also warned them that I might not be able to say nice things...I had never fallen in love with a girl over a BK Dinner Basket, for example.
The man I spoke to was very nice, and said that any publicity is good publicity when you are number two. He also told me that a sizable check was in the mail.
So I agreed.
Story 1: "Would You like Ketchup With That?"
My history with fast food is a long and rich one, and Burger King plays a big role in my experience with it. Not as big a role as Taco Bell (Breakfast at the Border will never again be duplicated, and that's a damn shame), mind you, but a big one all the same.
But because Burger King had a 99cent Whopper when I was in college, and because ketchup was always free, I have a number of BK stories to share.
In fact ketchup plays a significant role in my first (of three) BK stories. A major frustration with my friends and I back in the day was that Burger King (at least the one I went to) would always give you ketchup whether you asked for it or not...
Before I get to the meat and bones of this story, I would like to point out that throwing ketchup (or hot sauce, or any other condiment that is not in a dipping cup) into a drive-thru bag is pretty ridiculous. I would argue that the vast majority of patrons, no matter what they say, are going to dig into their food before they get home, or to the park, or back to work, or wherever it is they may be on the way to. We are a busy society and it makes the most sense to eat while driving.
That's the whole point of the drive thru, isn't it? It suggests that we are a people who do not have time to sit down and eat, so we must eat in the car because we are late for a dentist appointment, or a movie, or work, or tennis lessons, or any other of the 18 million things we have on the plate of life.
What we also do not have time (or ability) to do is put ketchup o n our Burger and Fries while we are also trying to drive stick shift.
That's just dangerous, people.
The first few times that Burger King put ketchup in the bag we let it slide, but after a while we grew wise and requested that they don't put any additional ketchup in the bag: It just gets in the way. And let me tell you, there is nothing worse than grabbing a handful of fries and having three ketchup packets mixed in.
Talk about dangerous!
The employees at Burger King must have made a game out of it or something, because they never seemed to honor this simple request. Time and time again they put ketchup in the bag, and it began to drive one friend of mine completely in-sane.
One night he slipped over the edge completely, though at first nothing seemed wrong at all. But as we pulled away from the drive thru window he immediately realized that we had been ignored yet again...
In his mind, I suspect that he imagined the employees sniggering at us in the rearview.
This would not stand, not stand at all.
So he reached into the bag of food, pulled out a handful of ketchup packets (fries and onion rings mixed in as well, no doubt) and proceeded to hurl it at the side of the building....
As ketchup exploded everywhere a single phrase could be heard echoing into the night:
"I said no ketchup!!!!!!!"
That'll teach the King.
Story 2: I Shouldn't Have Ordered the Big Fish
The second story in my Burger King trilogy revolves around a sandwich that was introduced some time in the mid nineties. BK was getting killed in the elderly demographic by McDonald's because they just didn't have anything to compete with the filet of fish, which was much more popular than their shrimp basket.
As the dinner baskets faded away, and BK's image became more extreme, they needed a fish sandwich that would appeal to both segments:
It would have to be cheap and tasty enough to please the seniors of the world and lure them from McDonald's, and it would have to be huge to please the younger extreme crowd who needed a sandwich with at lease 8400 calories to even consider slapping down a buck to pay for it.
The Big Fish seemed to be that sandwich.
At around the same time (1994?) I loaded up bunch of friends in my mom's mini-van and headed out for a camping trip in one of my favorite spots in the world: Yosemite National Park.
The drive is a long one though, and about half way there it was decided that we needed to stop at Burger King for some much needed sustenance. Since we were in a hurry, everyone ordered Whopper Combos, because they were on sale, and made for a pretty filling meal.
For normal people, that is...
My brother on the other hand, was not normal back in those days, and decided that the Whopper Combo was not going to tide him over until we arrived at the campground for a tasty helping of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.
Oh no.
In fact, he had been staring at the advertisement for the big fish for about 20 minutes as he chomped down his Whopper, and decided that he was hungry enough to put one back.
So he ordered one .
And he ate it.
Everything seemed fine at first, as we took to the highway and drove another 50-60 miles. I guess that's about when I started to hear the agonizing moans in the back of the van.
"Dude, what's wrong back there?" Someone asked.
"I don't feel so good." My brother replied.
"What's the problem?" Someone else exclaimed.
"I shouldn't had the Big Fish!"
In the years since, in circles that I run with, this phrase has become synonimous with "Yeah, I ate too much."
In other words...I shouldn't had the Big Fish.
Story 3: Um...These Tomatoes Suck
The Return of the Jedi of this tale (or is it Matrix Revolutions? I always get confused.) comes from my adult foray into the fast food world.
By the time you finish college you stop needing fast food for financial reasons so much as you do because you forgot to pack a lunch and don't know what else to do during your thirty minute break.
In other words it is a compromise of necessity.
The people who work fast food however have to be a little bit creative I suppose when it comes to putting food on the table, and if there is one thing that my college education has taught me it is to be on the lookout for scams.
I was pretty excited then, when I discovered one at Burger King a few years ago...
Now, I know that tomatoes are expensive. One only has to go to the grocery store to see that. I think, next to Avocados maybe, they are the most expensive item you put in your salad (unless you are like me and like to sprinkle gold dust on everything you eat). But if you go to Burger King and look at the picture on the menu-board (or the one on the place mat, or the window dressing, or anywhere else) the burger is slathered with huge, ripe, juicy tomatoes, and frankly I expect some variation of that when I order my Whopper.
BK management, in order to save on costs (see: aforementioned statement re: tomato cost) may make outrageous demands of their employees. They may request that they include ketchup in every to-go bag, for example, and they may request that no part of the tomato go wasted. I can understand that, and would expect from time to time that I might get the end-cap of the tomato on my sandwich.
But after frequenting the same Burger King for weeks at a time (no joke...it was the closest Fast Food restaurant to my office, and I always forgot to make a lunch) I began to notice something strange: I never got the meat of the tomato on my sandwich, always the end... Coincidence?
I let it slide for a time, but on one particular occasion I must have been having a bad day. I didn't have the patience for an end, I wanted a real tomato. And since I had received an end (which I almost always discarded) each of the last 44 times I went, I felt the odds had sort-a broken down a bit...I was due a break here.
So I marched up to the counter with my Whopper in hand and exclaimed to the attendant that I hated to complain (as every good white boy must do) but the tomato on my sandwich was unacceptable.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the cook looking at me and I could swear that his eyes bugged out for just a few seconds. The cashier pretended like he didn't really know what I was asking and then proceeded to have a conversation in Spanish with the cook...
I waited patiently as they debated, a debate that appeared to become quite heated.
After a while the cook opened a small refrigerator below his workstation and pulled out a tray of sliced, glorious, meaty tomatoes like the ones I had always seen in the advertisements.
They were not in the tray of condiments he uses to make burgers with...
Oh no.
These were special tomatoes.
And I wondered if I had been the first person to notice what they had been up to all of this time.
What cartel had I uncovered?
For tomatoes are expensive, and it's hard to feed your family on 5.75/hr. I understood that, and nodded at the cook as if to say his secret was safe with me...I just, for once, wanted a real tomato on my sandwich.
So the cook nodded back at me and placed four of the beautiful, magazine quality tomato slices on an open faced wrapper, and handed them to the cashier.
Finally...I was eating well with the King!
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