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Regular readers of this
column are aware that I have a tendency to boycott stores and
restaurants where I have had negative experiences.
Now we can add another
fast food joint to the list.
On return from our
recent vacation at
James River
State Park
in
Virginia,
Frank
and I stopped as we re-entered
West Virginia.
It was late afternoon, and neither of us had eaten anything, having
coffee only for breakfast. I ordered a double with cheese. About halfway
through the burger, I looked at the sandwich and noticed that a dead fly
had been pressed between the patties.
Granted,
it’s not a finger in the chili, but I still was nearly sick.
Frank
handed the food to a worker cleaning the dining room, who took it back
behind the counter. She returned to ask me, “You want a free ice cream
or something?”
Like I could
eat.
Frank
was also disgusted, and left the rest of his food lay on the table.
I’m getting to the point
where I’m afraid to eat any food I don’t make myself.
Recently, I
visited another place, where I ordered two chicken breasts and mashed
potatoes with gravy. One chicken breast was “flat chested” so to speak,
and the other . . . well, it was breading--all the way through. Not a
speck of chicken in there. None. At all. It did include a strand of hair
though.
Now, I
realize I’m picky with my food. It does, after all, go in my mouth. In
addition, after working several years of my life in restaurants, I have
come to know what is acceptable with health regulations and what should
be expected for service. Frankly, I am about to just give up and pack a
snack everywhere I go.
This past
weekend, we decided to try fast food again. I will say, the food was
good, hot, with real meat, and was offered to us in nice little meal
boxes instead of bags; however, when we requested salt, ketchup and
straws (as is now required--you have to ask), we were given a handful of
packets--without a bag.
Okay, first
off, if I order a drink through the drive thru, why should I have to ask
for a straw? Isn’t that like getting a salad without a fork?
Second off,
if I’m driving, what am I supposed to do with a handful of salt and
ketchup packets? I don’t want to put them in my food box on my fries,
who knows where those packets have been? I don’t want to throw them on
the front seat of the car--I’ve had packets that are open and leaking
before.
Why can’t I
have a bag?
I also have
a problem when my canned pop arrives at my table in the waitress’ apron
pocket. Eew. What’s been in that pocket? Money? Well money is some of
the germiest stuff on the planet. Of course, I always wipe the top of my
cans. I’ve seen the roaches run in those warehouses where soda and beer
is stored-- right across the rim where you place your lips.
I don’t
think it’s me. I certainly don’t go out looking for ways to slam
restaurants or fast food chains.
Frank
and I dine out so rarely, we once viewed it as a treat. I just want
good, clean food with all the utensils I need to eat it. You know,
services which restaurants were once supposed to provide.
Is that too much to ask? |