Yesterday, I decided to get Taco Bell on my lunch break. That was my first mistake, I know. I don't even really like Taco Bell that much, but I was driving and there it was and it was on the right side of the road and it was a Taco Bell/Pizza Hut and breadsticks sounded really good.
I DIGRESS.
I go through the drive thru. (I don't really like spelling words wrong but "drive through" looks too formal.) I order my food. I pull up to the window. Money is exchanged. Food is passed to me.
And then, AND THEN.
Taco Bell Drive Thru Employee, peering into my backseat, comments, "Somebody likes Sonic." I turn to see what he means and realize there are eight (okay maybe twelve) Sonic styrofoam cups rolling around in the back of my SUV.
Classy, right? But they were clean, rinsed, waiting to be taken to Publix which is the only place I know that recycles styrofoam cups. FOR RECYCLING, DO YOU HEAR ME? For the good of the EARTH.
Nevermind that it looks like I've got a once-a-day habit of downing Route 44s in the secret of my car.
So that, my friends and readers (you're actually one and the same), is the story of how I got judged by the Drive Thru Guy. As if I needed to feel more shame pulling away from a TACO BELL.
Has a minimum wage fast food worker ever judged you from his window? No? So you probably feel pretty good about yourself right now, huh? You're welcome.
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