I'll be right with you.

I didn’t have much time for lunch yesterday – no, scratch that. I haven’t had much time for lunch since I started my new job. Which is nice, don’t get me wrong. I like having things to do. I’m not complaining about it at all. But the fact remains: I didn’t have much time for lunch yesterday.

There’s a Burger Street across from my office. I look at it everyday. I might as well try it out. I don’t really eat burgers, though there was something called an “olive burger” that intrigued me. It’s not a burger made out of olives, if you’re wondering. It’s a burger that has olives on it. I was disappointed. I could really be down with a burger made out of olives. Green ones, by the way. I love green olives. I used to drink the juice when I was a kid. Mmmm….

So I pull up to the thing. Have you ever been? They’re tiny little buildings. Super skinny. As I’m about to turn left into the drive-thru, I see that the sign indicates that the lane is “exit only.” Odd. I’m on the right side of the building (if I’m outside looking at the front of it), and that’s usually where you drive around to order.

I didn’t want to argue with them about the set-up or anything, so I just kept driving until the next opening. It’s an entrance! As I’m turning the corner, I see that there are actually two lanes for the drive-thru. Lots of places are doing that these days, right? Cool. But one goes to the right and one goes to the left. Which would explain why there was an exit sign before, I guess.

There was someone in the normal lane, so I chose the new and exciting alternate lane. Who ever thought of going to the left (now I’m behind the building, see?) in the drive-thru? It’s crazy!

Well, I placed my order at the little speaker. I got a chicken sandwich, with no mustard or mayo, an order of fries, and a diet coke. “So you want a burger with everything, a Frito pie, and a large sprite?” Um.

“No, I want a chicken sandwich with no mustard or mayo, a small order of fries, and a medium diet coke.”

“Is ketchup all right?”

I don’t have a fucking clue. I haven’t asked ketchup about its state of mind today. “Sure.”

“Everything on the burger?”

“I didn’t order a burger. I ordered a chicken sandwich with no mustard or mayo.”

“Oh. That’s $2.55”

“Really? For a chicken sandwich, a small order of fries, and a medium diet coke?”

“Did you want fries?”

For all that is right and good in this world (which clearly isn’t much). “Yes! And a medium diet coke.”

I finally get a total that sounds appropriate, although he didn’t repeat my order again. Then as I’m pulling up to the window, I realize…I’m on the wrong side of the building. I can’t even tell if there is a window, but if there is, it’s going to be on my passenger side. Hmmmm.

I pull up and there is a window, but I can’t reach it and there’s no one standing anywhere near it. All the people are on the other side, at the other window. The right window, obviously. So I pull forward and exit the parking lot and start again. But there’s nowhere else to go. So I pull up to the wrong side window. What else am I going to do?

A little guy pops his head out. “Hi! Did you drive away?”

“Yeah, I can’t really reach the window from this side of my car, so I was confused.”

“So you had a cheeseburger with a large tea? That’ll be $4.67.”

Ugh. “No. I had a chicken…” You get the idea. I’m sure you all know the order by now, right?

He gives me a new total and I put my car in park, take off my seat belt, and climb over the center console to the passenger seat. I hand him some money and he says, “I’ll be right with you.”

He goes and fiddles with some things and talks to a guy who looks like he’s the manager. Then he comes back with my drink. That exchange almost cost me a car wash, but we made it through. It was a regular coke, not a diet, but who’s still going to argue at this point? And the little guy says, “I’ll be right with you.”

Now, isn’t that normally the sort of thing you say to someone before you actually get to them? You don’t usually say it over and over again every time you have to walk away, do you? I think I’m just being picky now.

He comes back after a few more minutes and hands me my bag of food. It would seem ridiculous to check it at this point, so I don’t bother. I just drive back to the office and let myself in.

In my bag, of course, was a cheeseburger with mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup and a Frito pie.