Rant of the day:

So as to avoid any misunderstanding, I will say this as plainly and clearly as possible: to Hell with this $15/hr minimum wage garbage.

Now, I am an unhealthy eater. I’ve been this way for my entire life. Bacon. Beer. Nachos slathered in bacon, with a beer. You name it, I eat it. So let us say that I am well-acquainted with greasy fast food. However, there is one unhealthy item which I utterly despise: mayonnaise. I *HATE* it with a passion that cannot possibly be overstated. I would rather brave a cloud of Rhino farts and Zyklon B than even *smell* this stuff.

So when I order fast food, I have only one requirement: NO MAYONNAISE ON THIS BURGER. Just one. That’s all I ask. Please, for the love of Christ (and I do not make this invocation lightly, this is an actual prayer, good sirs), NO MAYO. I am convinced that if Heaven exists, it is utterly mayonnaise-free. So I try to impress upon the clerks and drive-thru operators multiple times. I get their verbal confirmation: “yes sir, no mayonnaise, I understand sir.”

So far, by my reckoning, the mayonnaise failure rate stands at around 20%. Yes, one in five times, I get a burger with mayonnaise on it. Now, I submit to all of you, dear readers, that in any other industry on this planet, a 20% critical failure rate would not merely be unacceptable or somewhat frowned upon, it would be a complete disaster.

If firefighters, for instance, failed to show up to fires in their areas of responsibility 20% of the time, whole cities would probably burn. If 20% of jets fell out of sky, nobody would ride in airplanes. If 20% of car engines blew up, who would ever get behind the wheel? And even in more mundane areas, if 20% of clothes spontaneously fell apart… well, I guess that depends on who is wearing the clothing in question.

But you get my point.

Now, fortunately, fast food failures can be rectified quickly. And nobody is likely to die (though the mayonnaise smell makes me wish for death, at times), but the point is, this failure rate is unacceptable from someone who wants to make the same money as, say, a junior programmer, or an EMT, or a military man serving in the bush.

So, when I stop getting burgers lathered in extra mayonnaise when I asked for none, then we’ll talk about you getting more money. Maybe. If you deserve it and if the market will pay you for it. Until then, shut up and learn how to make a burger.

And it’s not just me. My wife’s “ketchup only, no other condiments” order often times gets her a bun with no meat, and ketchup. Or, conversely, everything BUT ketchup. So she’s taken to explaining it very rationally: no lettuce, no tomato, no onion, no mustard, no mayonnaise, no special sauce, no pickles. Meat. Bun. Cheese. Ketchup.

But then, invariably, the moron taking the order will just lose it. Brain unable to process. Cannot think. You can see the wheels turn, then grind to halt and lock up worse than my buddy’s transmission after a day at the drag strip. Done. Cannot process. He’ll look, drool dangling from one corner of his mouth, “uh… you just want ketchup?” And you just know that this idiot is thinking he can fulfill the order by reaching into the ketchup pack container and handing her a wad of them.

A lot of these folks are kids ostensibly saving up or paying for college. Others are older and definitely ought to know better. I know some folks aren’t blessed with a high IQ, or an abundance of sense. Hell, I fart worse than a diesel truck going up a steep grade, hauling a load of anvils and Rosie O’Donnell’s left ass cheek. Can’t help it. It’s genetic.

But these are very basic things. Simple communication. This, but not that. 1+1 or, more charitably, 1+1+1. This is a failure to think at all, and a sort of shock that thinking might be expected of them. You can just see the moron thinking (the only time he does). “Why should I think? I don’t need to think. That’s for other people to do. I’m just going to sit here and f*ck up orders all day, then go home and watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians, my personal heroes, because they don’t think and somehow got rich not doing it. F*ck this bitch and her ketchup only. F*ck this dude who thinks mayonnaise was an invention of Satan.”

Then the zombie-clerk will go to his zombie-home, watch his zombie-TV about people who might as well be zombies, and then triumphantly declare his agreement when some Social Justice Warrior blathers on about how he deserves more, and how he is being cheated of his just due.

Because, people who can’t even take a f*cking food order really ought to be running the place, dontcha know?

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