Spitting chips
By Sheryl-Lee Kerr
With modern day life moving as fast as it is, it's no wonder no one
has yet come out with an etiquette guide to drive-through service.
Have no fear, Dr Kerr, Junkfood Guru, is here!
First, remember the small, drive-through ordering box is boss. We
are mere Brave New World soldiers on the road to the second window.
Annoy the box and you'll be 5km up the road before you discover the sugar
on your fries.
Speak when spoken to. Yelling “Come on you pimply-faced teenage
git, some of us have a real job to get to,” will only delay proceedings
until the aforementioned acne-challenged person decides to serve
everyone else inside, clean all the counters, plan his/her Christmas
shopping list and have a game of mop cricket with other
acne-challenged individuals.
Next, when the box asks how you are, it doesn't actually care about
your gonorrhoea, gallstones and upcoming vasectomy. The correct
answer is: “I'll have one burger, fries . . .”
Right, you've passed all the above tests without incident - your
food is coming and the box hasn't heard about your in-grown toenail. Well
done. Hopefully you've made it to the second counter without
mounting the curb or taking out the booth window.
If so, remember here, it is not the done thing to see the food on
the counter and lunge for it before it is handed to you. This is for two
reasons:
One, the average junk-food eating torso is not big enough
to squeeze through a drive-through window from a car window without
cracking at least three ribs. Two, when the person inside the booth
sees a junk-food eating torso catapulting towards them, their thumb
will hit the alarm button before you hear the sound of your cracking
ribs.
By the time your twisted torso has thumped back against the
side of the car, your teeth vainly clutching your burger bag, your nose
will now be in line with about seven mean-looking police pistols.
And you still won't have your thickshake.
But, if all has gone without incident you should be driving right
out of there, softdrink dribbling on to the car seat, a stale fries
smell permeating your airvents and you trying to better smear the sauce on
your patty with your tongue as you steer with your pinky fingers.
Bon appetite. And remember the Dr Kerr motto: Just because it's junk
food doesn't mean we can't be civilised.
© The Advertiser & Sheryl-Lee Kerr, 26 NOV 1996.