In life everyone has things that get under their skin, pet peeves if you will. Some times though People encounter an action in life that goes beyond the scope of the word pet peeve. The only words that are fit to describe these instances are castastrophical annoyance. I'm pretty sure one of those two isn't a real word. The annoyance is so intense that a non existing word is the only thing that can describe it.
Today I want to take a moment to thank Taco Bell for being the biggest castastrophical annoyance in my life.
Taco Bell has served me faithfully through the years. They have provided vital nutrients that my body needs to transverse this wild urban jungle. Never have they been short on grade ? meat when I need it. Their fountains have never left my mouth wanting for the most awesome taste of Mountain Dew. When I needed lettuce the most, they never lettuced me down...
lettuced me down... jesus...What has the interwebzzz come too.
I could continue on with the list of things that Taco Bell has contributed to my life, but I won't. What I will do is talk about the one massive ulcer that mars every existing Taco Bell in the known universe. Insufficient mild sauce supplification(also not a real word) when going through the drive thru. At first I thought it only a temporary nuisance, but then I noticed that at every Taco Bell the story was the same. Only one packet per item ordered. Given my extensive history in the fast casual dining world I figured that this one packet practice was a money saving technique devised by the Taco Bell Desk Jockeys back at corporate.
So then I began asking for extra packets, still only one per item. I even went as far as to specify the exact number of packets I wanted. Still only one.
Now when I stop by for a 4th meal during the wee hours of the morning I use ridiculous synonyms for a lot or big such as Ginormous, Collosal, or "Enough to kill a horse".
To this day I still only receive one packet per item.
Like I said catastrophical annoyance.
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1 comment:
What if - after opening the bag and seeing the sad, lone packet at the bottom - you look directly in the eyes of the prepubescent on the other side of the sliding window, and ask him to fetch you (insert very specific, odd number here) more packets of mild sauce. "No no, not hot, and certainly not fire. Mild, that's
S-E-V-E-N mild. And make it snappy." The eye contact alone might confuse him just long enough that he'll do as you ask. Lemme know how that works out for you. :)
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