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Taco Bell
June 5th, 2004 / #complaints, #food
Today, myself being the healthy young lad I am, I walked up to the local Taco Bell for lunch. It’s not a long walk, three blocks and across Gulf-to-Bay Boulevard.
I started off at about 3:10, and made it there at about 3:20, maybe later. Anyway, I walked into the store and there wasn’t anyone at the register. No problem, I just stood there and waited. And waited. And waited.
I’m not a very vocal fellow, so I didn’t pipe up so that Maria in the back could notice me. This didn’t stop another customer who had already sat down with his food.
“Service to front!”
I thought this cry to be funny, so I chuckled. I wouldn’t be chuckling for long.
I made my order: A combo number 7, containing a chicken or steak quesadilla and a taco. I put some parameters on my meal, demanding the quesadilla be of the chicken variety and my taco be soft and lacking lettuce. Lettuce is gross.
No problem – I stated my case, had a $5.00 bill in my hand, and the transaction was going smoothly. That is, of course, until she did the unthinkable.
After I hand her my money, she dispenses 83 cents change, I say, “Thank you much,” and she says, “Sure, hun.”
I’ve never been particularly fond of pet names, but I’ve put up with them. Until now. The superfluous “hun” that little Maria entered into our business transaction wasn’t the sort of “hun” that a female says to a male. The way she presented it, she used the “hun” that one uses when talking to a six year old. A condescending, patronizing pet name. Granted, I’m short. Granted, I was walking up to the Bell in 90 degree heat. Granted, I may have looked helpless. I was not, however, helpless enough to warrant a name such as this.
And another thing. You do not introduce personal conversation into the transaction. Your job is to sell me tacos. My job is to eat them. Any other discussion or odd names takes from the professionalism of the two-bit operation you call Taco Bell.
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I'll Cry Instead - Remastered 2009 by The Beatles
haven’t commented in a while, but this drew my attention as taco bell is the best fast food chain. the workers there can call me whatever whimsical name pops to their head at the moment, so long as they keep serving me up some wholesome fried grease with meat and cheese somewhere in the mixture. sour cream too if possible.