Monday, October 18, 2010

the Drive-Thru Guy at Carl's Jr.

Dear Drive-Thru Guy at Carl's Jr.,

Remember the time I gave you exact change? Remember the time that change fell through your fingers? Remember when you asked me if I could get it?

Somewhere between that moment and the moment I was on my knees, halfway under my idling auto groping for 43 cents, I realized what my life had become. Perhaps you sensed my frustration.

But sometime after the change was collected and paid, and I was long since gone, something else changed... in me. Maybe, I thought, there are worse things than crawling under your car for pennies. Maybe there are people who don't have their own car to crawl under... people who have to crawl under other people's cars for coins... or people who have to crawl under their bicycle for coins... or under other people's bicycles. Maybe there are places where people have to get out of their cars to eat at restaurants. Maybe these sad places do exist. Maybe there are places where the cement outside the restaurant is unpaved. Places with Drive-Thrus that are dead ends. Maybe there are places where the restaurants don't have food. Places where the sink doesn't have water. Places where the drinks don't have liquid. Maybe it is that way. Maybe things aren't so bad.

Some people may tell you that the large gaps between your fingers are a genetic defect. But could a defect that serves as a catalyst of gratitude be a defect after all? Of course not. Thank you Carl's Jr. man. Thank you for not being great at what you do.


A Formerly-Disgruntled-and-Now-Satisfied Customer


  1. Hilarious! I once asked to see the manager at a fast-food place and I swear the girl that came to the front was 12 years old.

  2. Dear DBS, thank you for sharing this anecdote. I think we are all naturally suspicious of 12-year-old, female restaurant managers.

  3. James,
    I am glad you finally incorporated this story into your comedy. It wanted to be set free. And now it is. On a blog with 21 followers.

  4. Steve, I think 21 followers is an overstatement.
    Sincerely, James.