It’s all relative: Dad vs. Fast Food
This funny post, a real life story about Fathers who are Telephonically Challenged, inspired this.
Since I blog however the hell I want, figured I might share random tales from the “real life,” a Tale from the Snark Side as such.
My father cannot order fast food.
Well he’s not really a fan of fast food, even though at times it can look pretty when fancified. But he can’t order it.
- He won’t read the menu. He doesn’t understand that a “burger” chain will also offer things like chicken or salads.
- He thinks he’s Meg Ryan before the fake orgasm scene and that he can order things his way, and even at BK it’s a no go. He’ll make requests and it’s blank faces and tumbleweeds.
- He can’t order by number. It’s like, we want a “#2 but with cheese and onion rings”.. and the person at that counter is like “Oh sure, that’s a #6” (which it is!) and he’s like “NO, it’s a #2.” Sigh. See above, thing called menu.
- Forget the drive thru. Volume at maximum, he yells: tell them to slow down, speak up, speak clearly, he’ll correct people on their grammar. We ducked behind the back seats.
- He refuses to learn the names, i.e. Whopper, Big Mac, etc. Back when someone, think it was Mickey Ds, had a burger that put the lettuce and tomato on the side in a special box, that was it. He’d order “that salad sandwich.”
Pretty much gave up after that, just find out what he wants and order ourselves. We all have Dad’s with little quirks, right. See also, Shit My Dad Says though even The Shatner can’t make me watch that show.
Sure you can relate, so tell me.