No matter where I was that summer (we traveled a lot that year) ordering a meal was sheer frustration. I could not get what I ordered. Didn’t matter if we went to a fast food place, a restaurant or drive through, whatever I wanted, I didn’t get it.
In Indiana, we decided to get a light supper at a burger joint that had a few other items on the menu. “Garden salad for me,” I said. The clerk said, “We don’t have any left.”
No more plastic boxes with lettuce topped with bits of tomato. No salad, but they had hamburger fixings with lettuce and tomatoes. All they lacked was the ranch dressing, croutons and someone behind the counter with the initiative to toss them in a plastic box and call it a salad.
I gave the same order in a sit-down restaurant in the badlands of South Dakota. The rest of the family ordered buffalo-burgers. Since I had had one years before, I was not particularly interested in eating an over-priced hamburger with an imaginative name. I told my husband to pick up a tossed salad. He brought me coleslaw. “They said they don’t serve tossed salad at this time of day.”
My taste buds did not want colesaw at that time of day.
In Oregon, we opted for a drive through to pick-up a bite to eat and stop at the park we could see down in the street. I ordered a chicken salad, the kind that comes with lettuce. They didn’t have any left, but I could get a chef salad if I wanted. I didn’t particularly.
In northern California, the whole family waited in the car while I dashed in and ordered a quick carry-out of hamburgers, shakes and fries. All I wanted that time was fast service. I didn’t get that either.
The entire staff was new, in training and very slow. The manager kept smiling and promising, “the order will be here shortly.”
Because I had already paid for the food, I waited and listened to him repeatedly call, “Order number 19 is ready to be picked up.”
No one came. About the fifth time, I said, “If no one comes for it, I’ll take it. We have a carload of sons who never fill up.” Fifteen minutes later when he handed me our order, he included the 15-minute-old order no. 19. I didn’t get the fast service that I wanted, but the guys feasted well on someone else’s lunch.
The last time I tried ordering a meal was at a chicken franchise in Texas. My order included a half dozen biscuits. The girl asked, “Would you like rolls instead?”
“No, thank you, we all prefer your biscuits over the rolls.”
“It will be about 20 minutes before we have them ready.”
When I went back to the car to tell the family why we were waiting, my husband said, “I knew I should have gone in and placed an order.”
Once we were home, it took my family months to convince me to eat out. I preferred the safety of home cooking. I liked getting what I wanted, when I wanted it and exactly as I wanted it without a plastic box. And with no one saying, “I’m sorry but we are unable to fill that order.”