All I wanted was a DDP and a ice cream cone before Happy Hour ended.
Me: I'd like a vanilla ice cream cone and a Route 44 Diet Dr Pepper, please. That's all. Thank you.
Respectful. Clear and concise. They shouldn't have a problem.
Boy: That was a cone and a large coke?
Me: No. That would be a Route 44 Diet Dr Pepper and an ice cream cone.
Boy: A cone and what else?
Me: (This is Texas--Home of What-a-Burger and Dr Pepper.) a Route 44 Diet Dr Pepper.
Boy: Diet Dr Pepper. Anything else?
Me: (checking the screen and seeing only the drink on the order). Yes. I don't see the ice cream cone.
Boy: Oh. You want both?
Me: (gritting my teeth). Yes. Please.
Intermission (I listen to the orders being placed from the cars around me and marvel at the accuracy with which the boy understands the garbled orders.)
Girl: (attempting to hand me a melted ice cream cone first) You got the cone and the Diet Dr Pepper?
Me: Yes. But I'll take the drink first so I can put it in the holder.
Girl: (Tilted Dog-head look). Wha--?
Me: I need the drink first so I can place it in the holder and have my hands free to juggle the dripping cone and the money. I can't hold the dripping cone, and the drink, and the money all at the sane time. Not enough hands.
Girl: (Continues to attempt to give me the dripping cone)
Me: No. I'll take the drink first.
She eyed me. I eyed her. The ice cream dribbled down the side of the cone. Finally, she reholstered the cone and gave me the drink, so I could place it in the holder, so I would have both hands free to pay and accept my drippy cone--which I had to attack at once because she gave it to me sans napkins and the drip was perilously close to the paper holder that keeps her germs off my food and my ice-cream off her fingers.
I feel just like my GrandMother: Shaking my head and wondering why the youth of today won't listen to the Voice of Reason.
Although I call it a win for me, it was really a draw--just ask my Brain Frozen ice-cream head. :-)
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