And nobody cares.
Nobody, that is, except Burger King.
As a rule, I avoid Burger King because I'm not a real big fan of explosive diarrhea or clogged arteries, but man they make a mean breakfast. Those croissant things - they oh so cleverly call them "CROISSAN'WICH" are awesome. Those are not my upper case letters - they're theirs. Shout it out BK! Those are some seriously good breakfast fast food eatin'. Yum.
Now - another tasty breakfast treat at this establishment is the treat known as "French Toast Sticks". What a terrific invention. So, you say you like French toast, but you're on the go. You're texting with one hand and holding your Starbuck's with two fingers of your other hand while trying to keep a grip on your steering wheel with two more - saving the fifth for the occasional obscene gesture. Tradition French toast on a plate just won't work. Up steps BK with the culinary masterpiece - French Toast Sticks. Man, you can just grab these at the drive thru and dump them out on your passenger seat, fishing for one from time to time while gripping your iPhone in your teeth, then dunking it in what Burger King calls "sweet syrup" on their web site. The little syrup cup can sit in your cup holder - you're not using that for anything else. Finally, you execute the deft maneuver of grabbing your phone from your mouth and replacing it with the dripping, sugary log of goodness that is the French Toast Stick.
Hey and those will really stick to your ribs (or something inside you). They're loaded. The BK web site says that a 5-pack sports 500 calories, 18 grams of fat and 30 grams of sugar. Awesome.
So it's a no-brainer. You can enjoy the delicacy of a French toast breakfast without actually having to use a table, a plate or even a fork. What a great country! The only real decision is which do you want, the 3-pack or the 5-pack?
Fortunately, the good folks at Burger King, keeping our current economic situation in mind, have made this easier for us. Sure, you're hungry enough to eat a 5-pack, but you're not sure you can afford it. You dig frantically in the cracks of your seats, your floorboard and your cup holder to try to scavenge up enough dough. How much are these things anyway? Cheap! See the sign?
OK - so I can buy 3 for $1.00 or 5 for $1.99.
Thinking, thinking, counting change, calculating tax, rubbing empty tummy, thinking...
Hey! Wait a minute!
Suddenly you spy a reward for the sharper minded patrons at the BK! Ha! You can buy TWO three packs for $2.00! That's only one measly cent more than the five pack and you get one more whole stick of who knows what (actually) than if you bought the 5-pack. If your math is right, you score 100 more calories for that penny. You become slightly giddy at the realization that you are quite possibly a genius. Surely, you are in the upper echelon of Burger King diners because you have discovered the prize - you have solved the puzzle, cracked the code, opened the secret door to breakfast Nirvana. I mean, seriously. The only way BK can afford to toss in that extra stick for one penny is by scamming the dumber customers into buying that $1.99 5-pack. Suckers.
No longer thinking - thinking is done, thank you very much. Now you dig for that change. Ha! There's a quarter, a couple of dimes, some pennies, a nickel or two. Dig, dig, dig. There you have it. Confidently, you bark your order into the little speaker box at the drive-thru. "I'll have two 3-packs of French Toast Sticks," you say with confidence and no small amount of swagger. You imagine the order taker with a slight, knowing smile on his or her face - you can't determine gender - the speaker is way too static riddled for that. Maybe a bell rings inside. Maybe the manager begins a little dance in tribute to the mental giant coming around the building to acquire sustenance for their towering intellect. You imagine that several workers will crowd around the pickup window, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the rare specimen of humanity who has ordered the breakfast bonanza of the extra French Toast Stick for the ridiculously low price of a penny.
Your joyously smug daydream is interrupted by a shower of static partially obscuring the voice of your order taker. Of course, they have to tell you how much to pay, right? You listen. "Pardon me," you say. "What was that?" The numbers repeat. This time you hear them, but something is wrong. "How much?" you ask, only the slightest wavering noticeable in your bravado. The man/boy/woman/girl repeats the number. You glance horrified at your palm. You are a penny short.
Frantically, you dig for another penny. No! A penny short? It can't be.
"Please pull around," the speaker intones. Horns begin to honk behind you in the line. Slowly you realize the position you are in. You clear your throat. You speak into the box. "Excuse me," you say. "I would like to change my order."
"Sure, the voice says. Go ahead."
You find it hard to speak, but somehow you manage to choke out, "I want one 5-pack of French Toast Sticks" instead.
There is a static filled pause, followed by, "Are you sure?"
You imagine the scene inside. The looks of incredulity on the faces of those who were once your admirers, but who now must think you are the dumbest thing to wander through their drive-thru in years.
"Yes," you manage to say.
"OK," the voice replies and announces your total. You have enough - to the penny. "Please drive around."
Sadly, tentatively, and with your face burning and flushed with embarrassment, you idle up to the window. The smiling teenage girl takes your handful of change and hands you your bag. "Thank you," she says. "Have a nice day!" You manage a weak smile and say, "You, too." Odd. It's almost like she didn't notice how stupid you are. Oh, well - move on.
You take the container out of the bag and just as you imagined you would do, you dump the carbohydrate laden goodies all over your passenger seat and begin to prepare the syrup for dunking. Hey, cool - looks like they gave you two tubs of syrup. That's nice. Reveling in this bonus and attempting to arrange two open syrup packs in your cup holder, you glance over at the random scattering of breakfast on the seat next to you. Hey! What's that? One, two, three, four, five, SIX. There are SIX sticks, not five. Fate has smiled upon you. You will not be punished for your lack of an extra penny! Six glorious sticks. Haha! The world is right again. You are rewarded for your genius despite the economic issue that would have deprived you of your prize. Triumphantly, you seize a stick, squeezing it a little too hard and feeling the greasy interior escaping through the crusty outside and lubricating your fingers. With gusto you dunk the stick into one of the little tubs of syrup. Too much? Hardly. You have two tubs, remember? Besides, you are going to relish in the spoils of your cerebral victory. Eat it up.
Meanwhile, back in the drive-thru, the teenager smiles to herself, knowingly.
