On Shamelessness, Wendy’s and A Free Spicy Chicken Sandwich Cooked Hard

Do you ever encounter people who are just so shameless that you can only watch them with a mixture of embarrassment and awe? And no, I am not talking about myself.

I was out for a walk last night, avoiding being alone in my apartment with my own poisonous thoughts. I headed east on Wilson until I reached Leavitt and decided to go north. From there it was east on Foster to Damen, where I decided to head back south. I hit Lawrence and was hungry so I decided to stop in for a quick bite to eat at Wendy’s.

That’s where I encountered her.

She made her way from the back of the restaurant to the counter with a presence that I just knew meant trouble was brewing. In her hand were the remains of a hamburger. There was very little left of the hamburger, but I had a strong hunch upon seeing it that the hamburger would still manage to become a dig deal.

“I told you I wanted this well done,” she said has she slapped her hamburger on the counter.

I stifled a chuckle. I was standing at a Wendy’s. I was not seated in a fine dining establishment. Do they even actually cook the meat at Wendy’s, much less cook it to order?

The young man behind the counter started to say something about replacing the burger, but the woman stopped him cold. “Gimme a spicy chicken sandwich. I ain’t gonna eat this burger.”

I stifled another chuckle. She’d clearly already eaten over half of the burger. Maybe that half had been well done.

A manager, having heard the conversation, came over to deal with the woman. He explained that they could give her a spicy chicken sandwich, but that she would have to pay the difference. The woman did not take this suggestion kindly.

“I paid for the hamburger,” she said, her irritation growing. “I told you to cook it hard. Now I just wanna spicy chicken sandwich instead.”

The manager slowly explained one more time that the woman could get a spicy chicken sandwich, but she would have to pay for the difference in cost between the burger and the chicken. He gave her a price, and that set her off again. The price apparently did not compute on her internal calculator.

Once again the manager slowly explained why she had to pay for the chicken sandwich. This time he included a lesson in sales tax so that she could understand why the actual cost of the sandwich was higher than the price advertised on the board.

“I just wanna damn chicken sandwich cooked hard!” Now she was pissed. She turned back to her kids. “Bring me that potato!” she hollered. “I want to show them how it ain’t cooked right.”

And there we were. Nothing at Wendy’s was cooked to her satisfaction. She was going to scream and fight until she was finally rewarded for her ridiculous behavior with a free spicy chicken sandwich. And that, of course, is exactly what happened.

I suppose in some ways it pays to be rude and shameless.