When I worked at Imaginet, the gang and I used to eat at the BK about twice a week. The BK, that was our little nickname for Burger King...we took the first letter of each word in the name of the restaurant and used them to represent the whole name. Pretty clever, eh?

Anyway, we would go to lunch, I would get a Whopper with Cheese or whatever other cheese-laden special they had on the menu, Jack would get two large fries and a sandwich, and the rest of the fellows would get whatever they always got. And then we would proceed to eat, talk loudly, swear up a storm with small children very much within earshot, and then stumble back to the office, our stomachs clenching from all the beef, special sauces, and cheese.

Happily, I grew out of that and have rarely been back since. Until the other day when a friend of mine and I went, she in search of a BK Big Fish and me in search of something halfway edible. We drove thru and had to deal with one of BK's finest employees; she had our order complete and was about to hand it to us when she put it down to go have a conversation with a fellow employee for about 30-45 seconds.

Needless to say, I was disappointed when my chicken sandwich was worse than the service. Never again will my shadow darken Burger King's doorway...nor will my car's shadow ever darken their drive-thru window.



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