"Eh, Whadda gonna do?"

It was a hot day, and I was doin' some stuff which generated a fair amount of sweat and stink. I'm drivin' around and I didn't want to cook. I spy a fast food chain, let's call it Chalupa Glockenspeil. I coulda picked up the stuff, and cruised on home, but mmm, the Air Conditioning at CG is better than my tumescent cold air blower, so OK, I'll eat it here.

I place my order at the front of the line, and slidddde on down to the end of the line, and pay the nice lady with the "manager" badge.

She hands me a tray with a whole pile of stuff, none of which is what I ordered.

"Excuse me," I say very politely, "this isn't what I ordered." She looks up at her fist-sized blinky blinky screen, looks at my tray, and then says the title of this post.

"How's about giving me what I ordered?"

"Well, I could, but it'd take more time, I'm busy, and besides, you've got more food!"

I grumpily sit down and eat what I am given, all nacho cheezed off about it. As I walk the door of this particular Chalupa Glockenspeil, n'ere to return, I see a sign on the door, with the 800 number for complaints, and even the store number. That settles it -- I'm rattin' you out, store number Blah Blah Woof Woof!

When I call I get a GlockenDrone who's more used to dealing with employees about what exactly is covered when you "accidentily" stick your tongue in the deep fryer, than actual complaints. Being only a 2nd level Adept in ChalupaGlockenSpeilGedanken, it takes her several minutes to find out in the Big Book of WhatTheFuckToSayToTheMasses, the right script. She begins:

"OK, what's wrong?"

"I ordered this. I got that. I wanted this. Manager showed more indifference to my plight than Baseball shows to the General Public."

"Yes, but what's wrong with that?"

"Huh? I didn't get what I ordered!"

"Yes, but what's wrong with that?"

We go in a loop like this a few more times, all the while I'm thinking that this is the conversation that I will remember on my deathbed! Finally, my inner Corporate Obi-Wan deduces she's asking about the quality of the food itself! (low rat feet count, etc.)


"Nothing was wrong with the food." If they could've wrapped her sigh of relief in a tortilla, they'd have probably the best thing on the menu. Moving on!

Flip, flip, flip go the pages, until we get to our Proper Response:

"Would you like a Senior Chalupa Glockenspeil Executive to return your call about your complaint, or would you like to complain anonymously?"

My sense of paranoia came into full bloom; "ummm...I'd like to complain anonymously."

"Very Well. What is your name and address?"

"Do you not comprehend what anonymously means?"

"Well, we're not going to use the information! We merely want it for our records!"

I hung up, realizing I would just take the tray next time, and enjoy my undeserved bounty.

Somewhere, Rod Serling tilts his head back and laughs....