I’m relieved to report that Jonathan, my 13 year old, and I arrived safely in Florida last night. The first thing I did when we got here was rip off my Montreal, winter clothes and dig out my shorts and flip flops.
I LOVE my flip flops. They’re the second key ingredient to a happy life. (The first is alcohol.)
But it’s not all flip flops and happiness for some people; specifically the girl who works at the Burger King Jon and I stopped to eat at during our travels.
Now I don’t want to sound like I live under a rock but when I asked Ms. Burger-King-Ray-of-Sunshine what her equivalent to a Quarter Pounder was, the first thing she did was stare at me with a blank face.
13 seconds of silence.
Thinking that maybe I had spoken a foreign language (ENGLISH), I repeated my question in French.
“I heard you the first time,” she answered. “And we don’t have Quarter Pounders. We have WHOPPERS.”
“Yes, I get that. But I don’t want anything similar to a Big Mac. You know. With the ‘special sauce’,” I explained. “I want something Quarter Pound-ISH.”
“Uh-huh.” And then again nothing but a blank face so I ended up ordering a WHOPPER.
Dear Burger King Girl: May I suggest a little flip flop therapy?
Or maybe a career change.
I can’t believe the girl had an offended air about her. I worked at Burger King for a month, and it is not worth the emotion she clearly puts into the place. It’s most certainly not a reason for her to be rude to you.
Also, I’m totally jealous of your flip flops right now, as St. John’s has 25-30 cms coming at us tonight.
I sat beside a woman from Newfoundland on the plane and she mentioned all the snow out east. BUT . . . Flip flop weather will be upon us Canadians soon too!
Definitely the career change 😉
Yes, I would recommend it. My experience with Burger King has been tainted. Forever.