Where This Meets That
Sunday afternoon, I decided to treat myself to a Dairy Queen Blizzard. When I arrived at the pick-up window, I was taken aback by the appearance of the man serving food.
He was probably in his late 40’s and had distinctly different colored eyes, one blue, one brown, and had three tear drops tattooed coming down his cheek from his left eye. Below that was one of the blackest, bushiest beards I’ve ever seen – certainly in the food service industry. His tone was pleasant, as he told me my Blizzard would be right out, so . . . whatever.
However, as he tried to hand my Blizzard treat, there was a thick streak of overflow running down the side of the cup. I recoiled and asked if he could wipe it off so it wouldn’t mess up my car. Common customer service, right? But his method of cleaning it off shocked me most. To clean the drip, he ran his finger up the side of my cup and then slurped his finger and wiped his hand off on his shirt.
Then he actually smiled as though pleased with serving his customer and offered it back to me. I was appalled and snapped, “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I’m not taking that!”
He seemed genuinely surprised, so I asked him to send his manager to the curb. His expression fell, and he quietly asked me not to talk to his manager. I insisted then pulled my car ahead and got out of my car to await the manager.
It wasn’t his manager who came through the door but this strangely grotesque man, whom I could now see also had a prosthetic left leg. He wore a tortured face and desperately hissed, “Please, sir, forgive me! My boss will fire me, and I have nowhere else to go!”
My heart pounding, I held my hands up defensively and said, “Sorry, sir, I don’t know what all’s going on here, but you can’t be licking people’s food. I’ve gotta let your manager know!”
I moved to step around him and go into the restaurant, when he collapsed onto the curb and wrapped his arms around my leg, begging me in tears not to inform his manager. I was stunned and actually took a quick glance around to see if I was being filmed, as a cruel prank, before I attempted to wrest my leg from his grasp. But the guy was strong as an ox, and the harder I pulled, the harder he pulled. In the end, he was pulling my leg . . . just like I’m pulling yours right now!
Disclaimer: This entire post is fictional. I enjoy Dairy Queen and do not recall ever having a negative experience either with their service or their food.