FROMONLINE | 2011-06-19

  • By Tami Lange
  • June 19, 2011
  • 294
                        
Ever hear of the straw that broke the camel’s back? There’s a lot of truth in that. Sometimes, when you’ve had enough and the stress and aggravation have reached fever pitch, there is just one small thing that pushes you over the edge. Sometimes it is, quite literally, a straw – or lack of one. As those of you who know me well know, I have a strange addiction to the fast-food drive-thru. I believe this came as a result of many years of being single, working split shifts and having no use for a kitchen other than to have a place to store milk and microwave dinners. Over the years, I have moved on to marriage, motherhood and homeownership – but still I have a strange desire to hit the drive-thru, mostly just for Diet Coke. Husband points out that he will gladly buy me a whole case of Diet Coke, thus saving my time and his money. But no, I gotta have the drive-thru Diet Coke. The carbonation is perfect and the ice is just right. I know it’s weird, but if that’s my worse vice at this point in my life, I say “bring it on.” Lately, The Nipper has developed a taste for salad, so we have those mom-and-son moments of ordering salad AND Diet Coke. He asks no more than a bowl of lettuce with cheese, croutons and ranch dressing, which is about what we expect of your basic drive-thru salad. Oh, and he also likes a root beer – no ice. I don’t really think we’re asking too much. But in the past few weeks, I’ve come to realize that a Diet Coke, a side salad and a root beer (no ice), might just be an order too tall for some franchises. Actually – just one franchise (which I will not name – for fear of reprisals and perhaps, even worse service than normal) So, at the end of a long day, we’re sitting in the drive-thru – waiting, waiting, waiting on a line that never seems to move. I finally pull to the microphone. I say, “I’d like a side salad and …” Cut off. The disembodied voice replies, “We’re out of salad.” It took a second to process. How can you be out of salad? Do we not live in one of the biggest agricultural communities in the state? Are there not supermarkets? Are there not farm stands? Are we under some kind of siege, one that prevents us from securing a few heads of lettuce? And so I left. The Nipper was not happy. It was not a teachable moment. Seriously, how can you explain to your child that when you run out of something, you just close up shop? At our house, if we run out, we go and buy more. Such a novel idea. Who knew? But hey, I’m all about second chances. At the same time, I’m not so much into the third, fourth and fifth chances. On a subsequent trip, we got two bags full of stuff, none of which we ordered. Another time, we got no dressing. Yet, still The Nipper is insistent we should try again. This brings me back to the camel illustration. It had not been a good day. It had been a hot day, one spent coughing from a summer cold I could not shake. I had lots to do and little time to get it done. So we get to “that” drive-thru. We order our usual, pick it up at the window and we’re on our way. A block up the street, I reach into the bag for my straw. There is none. I feel the blood pounding through my neck. Really? I ask so little, but I get even less. Because I work in a job that involves at least a modicum of customer service, I am dumbfounded as to how one business can provide so little. I drive back down the street, put the car in park and go inside. At the counter, no one will even make eye contact with me. I feel sort of like Michael Douglas in “Black Rain,” mixed in with Peter Finch in “Network.” Finally, I interrupt the counter clerk from the all important boyfriend discussion she’s having with a co-worker. “I need two straws,” I say. “We’re outta straws,” she says, and promptly returns to her conversation. Did you ever have “that” moment, the one where you just want to practice primal scream therapy in a public place and not care who hears? That was my moment, yet somehow, I was speechless. You have no straws? (I’m just thinking this) HOW can you have no straws? Are you not the least bit bothered by the lack of straws in a business that delivers half its orders to people who are driving cars? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? Are there no businesses within, say I half-mile of you that sell straws? But you know, it wasn’t the lack of straws; it was the virtual indifference to the fact they had at least one unhappy customer. Oh, well … I walked out, drove up the street and got a straw from a similar franchise. The moral of the story: it’s never the big stuff that sets a person off. It’s that one thing, that one small thing, that eventually will push a person over the edge. A straw, a straw – my kingdom for a straw. UPDATE: I have given up the drive-thru life. Nipper gets his salad at home. And he gets it with a smile, croutons, cheese and a root beer. And a straw. Wooster Weekly News columnist Tami Lange can be reached via e-mail at tam108@hotmail.com


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