I think the girl who works at the Jack in the Box by my house has a crush on me. Now you may think this is a bit of a bold presumption on my part, but I have good reason to think so. I go to this fine restaurant about once a week. It’s really close to my apartment, and they just starting selling grilled cheese sandwiches! Now you may say, “Taylor, why don’t you just go to the grocery store, which is just as far from your house, and buy bread and cheese, and then go put that on your super cool George Foreman Grill you have in your closet under the drawers from your desk you’ve had sitting in your living room for 10 months?” Well, that is a good question. But the answers besides me being lazy don’t really exist.
Actually, I do have an answer. When I order my grilled cheese sandwich, I also ask for a #8 (that’s chicken strips, for you losers that don’t have the combo meals memorized). I ask for a small drink and fries, because I try to be as healthy as possible in my poor eating habits. I’m like a guy who robs a bank, but only asks for $500, and has plans to give a small portion of it to charity. So anyways, here’s my point. When I go to this Jack in the Box once a week(ish) and this lady is helping me, when I look in my bag, I get medium fries! No joke, people. The first time, I thought it was a mistake. Then it happened again. One time I even found a hair in my food. Some people would be grossed out and disgusted by this. But those people aren’t me. I’m not too good with girls….when a girl puts one of her hairs in your chicken strips container, that means she likes you, right?
I went again today, hoping the same girl would help me and leave another hair in my food to prove my assumptions correct. Well, no hairs, unfortunately. But she did say, “Good to see you.” Good to see me? I’ve never had such a personal statement said to me at a fast food restaurant. One time a guy at Del Taco yelled at me when I explained to him that I specifically asked for no special sauce on my Macho Taco. The guy had a lot of attitude and made me angry. But it is hard to be stern and serious while making a complaint that your Macho Taco was made incorrectly, so I left without obtaining any justice.
Now on the other hand, this lady may hate me. She may think, “Wow, this kid needs to die. I am going to give him more fries than he asked for, hoping this will help make him fat and clog his arteries.” Or maybe, I haven’t looked at my receipt and she’s been charging me for medium fries and drink, and she’s giving me a small drink, to trick me into thinking she’s doing me a favor. She may even pocket the difference and use to to buy drugs, or mozzerella sticks! Whatever the answer is, I will keep going to Jack in the Box. A place where whenever I enter, I can honestly and humbly say that I’m the most handsome, least smelliest, most non-homeless person in the building. And that self esteem booster along with me thinking I’m getting hit on by a girl in a blue hat who doesn’t speak very much English, will ensure that this fine establishment gets my money once a week from now until eternity…or at least until those girls at Subway get their act together. Or until I move. Whichever comes first.
