Never Leave Your Fast Food Unattended

In high school, a few of my friends on the golf team had a sort of tradition in which we would go to Wendy’s after practices. Senior year, I probably ate more Wendy’s than one should ever eat in a lifetime.

So one day after practice, we were sitting down at Wendy’s after getting our food, and I got up to get everyone cups of water because I am a great friend. When I returned, I took the bun off my Junior Bacon Cheeseburger to remove the lettuce and tomatoes, and all I saw was a tiny chicken nugget. No meat. No bacon. No cheese. Just a lone nugget nestled gently between two buns.

Before even thinking, I got up and rushed to the counter. “Umm, I ordered a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger, and I got… this,” I said, pointing to my massacred meal. For some reason, my thought process went something like, “They must have accidentally given me a crispy chicken sandwich, and the chicken must have been abnormally small.”

The cashier lady had no idea what was going on. She pulled the manager from the back, who came up and asked me what the problem was. I repeated my explanation, and he just stared me down like a madman.

“You are assaulting me! I personally make every Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. Your friends must be playing a joke on you,” he cried. He literally said "assaulting."

I looked back at my friends then back to the madman manager, madmanager. Having too much faith in my friends, I responded, “No I just opened up my wrapper and saw this,” continuing to point feebly at my sad sandwich.

After this went on for a while, my friends shouted my name and told me to come back to the table, laughing hysterically.

Shit.

I walked back to the table with my tail between my legs, realizing that my friends had indeed performed some modifications to my burger while I was up getting drinks.

And that’s what you get for doing everyone a favor.