Run for the Border

Congratulations to the Taco Bell of Wake Forest. You have just joined a short, but prestigious list which includes the Bluefield Applebee's and the Crossroads Wendy's in Roanoke. You screwed up so royally and caught me in a foul enough mood, that I'm tempted to never darken your door again.

That's an empty threat, seeing as how I so enjoy the quesadilla from Taco Bell, and it's the only one that's even remotely nearby.

But today was a pretty lousy day. That's bordering on typical, but it didn't help that I was really tired after I left job number two and was also really hungry. These days that I work both jobs, I tend to have to space my meals about 8 hours apart. I'm not dying of hunger or anything, but driving around with pizza fumes wafting in front of my face for three hours doesn't exactly help me to not think of food.

So tonight when I got off work, I decided to use some of my tip money and order my usual at the Taco Bell. Everything was going fairly well until I got about three blocks from the restaurant and realized they hadn't given me the drink that was supposed to come with my combo. That irritated me, but I decided to let it slide. I have drinks at home, I didn't need to turn around just to get a Mountain Dew.

And then I got home. I changed into some much more comfortable attire and sat down to enjoy my chicken quesadilla. But when I opened the bag, there was no quesadilla. There was no soft taco, which was supposed to accompany the quesadilla. Instead, there were two burritos. My earlier irritation flared into full-blown anger.

Remember, at this point, I was home; I was in comfortable clothing. I was ready to eat, write something for the blog, catch some of the Olympics, then go to bed. But no. Now I would have to figure out what I was doing for dinner. I could choose to just let this go and search for something in my kitchen to eat. But here's the thing: I haven't been to the grocery store in a while. The cupboard isn't exactly bare, but it's running low. And if I'd felt like actually cooking something, I never would've hit the drive-thru in the first place.

So I looked up the phone number for our local Taco Bell. And I got no answer. Thrice did I call, and thrice I received no response. So I changed back into something a little more uncomfortable and made the drive all the way back to the Taco Bell. It's probably good that they're on the other end of Main St. The drive was probably just enough to bring me from DEFCON 2 down to DEFCON 4. I was able to calmly explain what happened. I was able to calmly demand to receive what I ordered.

To make up for my trouble, they threw in some free cinnamon twists. Like that makes up for it...

Fine, I'll eat there again. But they're on probation!