Run from the border

As Homer Simpson might say: Taco Bell – the cause and solution to all of life’s problems. With this in mind I thought I would treat myself to my standard T-bell fare – two meximelts and a nachos supreme. It is the small things in life that make it special. Alas the Taco Bell on 14th Street can sometimes be a less than ideal experience.

So I’m waiting on line to order the meal I would probably order as my last meal if I were on death row and I’m getting giddy with anticipation. Unfortunately, the cashier did not share my joy. Instead she is yelling at whom I can only assume must be the manager. She is adamant that she is not going to plunge the toilet. And I have to admit I sympathized with her. I can only imagine how horrid the toilet in Taco Bell on 14th Street must be.

So the manager leaves and the cashier and I have a heart to heart, we discuss all the reasons why she is not going to plunge the toilet. I admit that this is less than ideal banter before ordering dinner but I do believe the manager was being a jerk, so I fully supported her decision.
I finally ordered my dinner and I was already imagining that first bite when things seemed to have hit a snag. My comrade, the cashier, took my money, ordered my food and then promptly went on break. Unfortunately nobody was there to give me the order.

I saw the food sitting on the table just taunting me. But no, the woman who makes the food, very nicely by the by, does not give it to the customer. The cashier must also give the food to the customer. Well, it felt like a curb your enthusiasm episode. I’m standing there, staring at my food on the counter, listening to the cashier in the back talking about not plunging the toilet… So I’m thinking to myself – do I hop the counter and grab my food? I mean I already paid for it. No, I just sit and brew. And five minutes later I got my food and ran from the border.

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