Posts tagged cow

There’s a Taco Bell on Geary Blvd. and 6th Ave. in San Francisco. Technically, it’s also a KFC  but irregardless. I may have been there a couple times in my younger years and I hate them. No, I don’t hate them because of the Taco Bell Drive-Thru Diet. I hate them for one very specific reason. I call it the Taco Bell Call-Out.

This Taco Bell is tiny. You open the front door and there’s no place to sit and there’s barely any room for standing in line to order. Anyway, it is policy at that Taco Bell to call out your name when your order is ready. Makes sense, right? Well, after they call your name and you’re approaching the counter to pick up your food, they proceed to call out the entirety of your order even if you’re already right at the counter. They won’t even hand over your food until they’ve finished explaining everything that’s in the bag (or in my case, bags). Once as I approached the counter, I told them not to call out my order and that I trust that the bag contains what I’ve ordered. But it never works.

“GEARY! Order ready for Geary!” (Yeah, they never get my name right). I approach the counter. “Hi, Geary. I have here a Number 5. That’s two supreme tacos and a Mexican pizza. I also have a Meximelt, one Gordita, a bean burrito hold the onions, and a KFC snacker.” At this point all the skinny bitches behind the registers (Luan and Dolores) are snickering. “And cinnamon twists for dessert. Would you like two sets of utensils?” I mutter, “No, thanks. I have forks at home.” “Great! Enjoy. Thanks, Geary.” I quickly grab the bags of food, pull down my hat, put on my divorcee sunglasses and run like hell.