I blame this on CVS. The only decent and fast food option close to me was Wendy's so I ended up eating lunch there 3-4 times a week so I have an addiction to the Spicy Chicken Sandwich. So as we were trying to decide what to have for dinner, I blurted out "Wendy's. I need my Spicy Chick-Chick." Sarah relented (finally) and decided on a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger with no tomatoes or lettuce. I drive to the Wendy's on El Camino, since it is in our neighborhood and I don't want to drive all the way to NASA Rd 1 (or NASA Parkway or whatever they feel like calling it today).
I get to the window and I am rather abruptly greeted with, "Can I help you"? I know it's Sunday night, but can you show a little courtesy? In my best Tenacious D voice I order a "JUNIOR bacon Chee. No Tomatoes. No Lettuce."
I also place my order and tell the nice person that my order was complete. His response? "Ok drive around." Ummmm, can I get a readback to make sure you got it right? I know the world is beating down your door at 9pm Sunday night in December, Mr. Popular, but is it too much to ask for a total?
*Breathe Don. You are sick and just a LITTLE extra grumpy right now. Just drive around.*
So I drive around to the first window and the guy just hold his hand out. Does he want me to high-five him? We haven't practiced our secret handshake so it can't be that either. Finally I figure out he wants money. Since I still don't know the total I ask him how much. He mumbles something so quiet and incoherent that I don't even bother to ask him to repeat it. I just give him a $10 and get change back. Hmmm, I guess fgsgbskgbksergsergsekergserg translates into $7.76.
I go to the next window where some young man thrusts my root beer at me, without completely sealing the lid. I almost get a Barq's bath, but luckily I catch it just in time. Then I get a bag handed to me and the window slams shut just as fast as it opened. The dude never said ONE WORD TO ME. No "Thank you come again." No "Do you need catchup?" Not even a "I can get you into the club after my shift." I bang on the window, looking for satisfaction and a manager. What came out of my mouth was, "I need mustard. The kind that comes with nuggets" while I make the dipping motion with my hands. He hands me one and closes the window, still without saying one word to me. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
So I get back home and pass out food.
Mine looks tasty, despite the mutes that work there. Upon further review, there was enough mayo on my sandwich to drown the "ndwi," leaving only "sa" and "ch" to fend for themselves in cold, murky, eel-infested waters.
Sarah's JBC looked like a mayo factory on the inside as well, but she likes that stuff so she was ok with it.
At this point in time, with an entire jug of mayo placed on 2 sandwiches, lack of communication at the drive-thru, I decide I need to write to Wendy's and let them know about the horrible service I received.
Of course it took me 5 minutes of searching to even find the "contact us" link and after typing my complaint, their server went down. Whatev, I just won't go back to that Wendy's anymore. If the Spicy Chik-Chick crave overcomes me again, I will just go to the Nassau Bay Wendy's. Merry Christmas.
