Five Not So Easy Pieces

Possessed either by the living ghost of Jack Nicholson or the imaginary ghost of obsessive-compulsive Adrian Monk, last night I walked away from a fast food stand in desperation.

I have a theory, it goes like this. Fast food sells because of two primary factors: predictability and limited choice. Both factors make the fast food transaction as fast and pleasant as possible for both the buyer and the seller. Fast food joints that haphazardly ignore these core business factors will cease to remain in business under a fast food model.

I was working online in a public space. One of our local malls, keenly aware of the growing "mobile office" trend, has set up quite pleasant work spaces scattered throughout the mall, usually near a store that sells coffee or chocolate. I spent the day in a comfortable chair with a small desk, WIFI, and power, sipping a iced chai latte from the nearby Starbucks stand. As a departure from my normal mobile office, the "Teashop Office" as I call it, it was nice.

El Cigarro Grande appeared in the late afternoon with his duo of Seussian spawnlings, adorable boys (Pix and Pox) pleasantly happy to see me and beg me to take them to the Apple Store (which was 20 paces away). I packed up my things and we visited the Apple Store, where I discovered Pix and Pox's fascination with Apple computers had more to do with the "child's table" and less with anything else. After a brief browse for new iPod earplugs (Shure, $299? You must be joking...) we made our way to the food court to find something resembling dinner.

The spawnlings gravitated towards the Sonic for burgers while I wandered the food court looking for something else. I found a little sandwich place, Which Wich, looked up at the menu, spied "#1 Turkey, Turkey Reuben" and made my choice.

I approached the "Order Here" sign and stood for many seconds, 30 inches in front of employee staring down at some kind of inventory report. After many seconds, the other employee who was manning the sandwich line, called out the order taker's name to alert her to the presence of a customer. She looked up at me glumly and the obligatory first question slithered out.

"May I help you?"

I was prepared. "Yes, please. I would like a turkey reuben."

"What would you like on that?" she responded.

"Well, just a turkey reuben, please."

"Do you have your sack?"

At this point, it dawns on me that her line of questioning did not coincide with my expectations. A turkey reuben, like a BLT or a grilled cheese, is one of those sandwiches that comes fait accompli in my realm of experience. And what was this sack she was asking about?

So, I asked. "My sack?"

"Yes," she said, jabbing her pencil at a row of numbered sacks off to one side of the counter. "You need a #1 sack for turkey."

The ground began to tilt beneath me.

"I need a #1 sack for turkey?" I repeated, trying to understand.

"Yes, you need a #1 sack for turkey. Then you write on it what you want on your sandwich."

"Ah, but I just want a turkey reuben." I pointed at the menu board. "Right there, it says '#1 turkey, turkey reuben'."

"Yes, it does," she agreed, "but we need to know what you want on it. You need a #1 sack for that."

"I just want a turkey reuben, though." I pleaded.

She sighed heavily and pulled out a sack from behind the counter. With her pencil, she scribbled a large "#1" on the sack. Then she asked, "What kind of bread do you want?"

I supplied the obvious, world-wide, need I say only, answer: "Rye, please."

She sighed again and pushed the sack towards me. She jabbed her pencil at a printed line on the sack which read "White" and "Wheat", which check boxes next to them.

"We only have white or wheat."

"But, I want a turkey reuben..." I retorted.

She stared at me.

I surrendered. "Alright, alright. Wheat, please."

"OK, what else do you want on it?"

Now, I am getting a little annoyed. "Well, traditionally, a turkey reuben has turkey on it."

"OK, turkey. " she said, "That's a #1. Is that it, just turkey, then?"

"No," I said, "in addition to turkey, a turkey reuben has three other things on it."

"We normally make it with saurkraut." she admitted.

"Yes, yes," I nodded vigorously, "a turkey reuben has saurkraut on it." Now I was breaking through!

"Do you want saurkraut on it?"

I stared at the girl for a long moment. Then, I slowly repeated "I just want a turkey reuben."

"OK, a #1 with saurkraut." she concluded, scribbling on the sack.

"See that board up there?" I asked, pointing behind her.

She didn't turn her head when she answered patronizingly, "Yes."

"Well," I continued, "it clearly lists 'turkey reuben' and next to 'turkey reuben' it also clearly lists three ingredients: swiss cheese, saurkraut, and thousand island dressing. Now, I won't quibble with the lack of rye bread or whether or not russian dressing is or isn't the same thing as thousand island, but you obviously already know what goes on a turkey reuben."

"Yes," she admitted, "but those are just suggestions."

"I was not suggesting I wanted a turkey reuben, though. Ordering a turkey reuben should not require me to fill out a questionaire on my personal turkey reuben preferences. This is a fast food restaurant in a mall food court. I did not come prepared with a #2 pencil or the appropriate mind-set for test taking. A turkey reuben is a sandwich with a well- known and rather rigid recipe of precisely five invariable ingredients, two of which you've choosen to vary and the other three you seem to want to pretend don't matter. I did not come here to order some kind of improvised sandwich jazz medley on the turkey reuben. I wanted a turkey reuben because I knew exactly what I would get with a turkey reuben. So, right now, I am going to walk away from you and not order a turkey reuben, or anything else. Have a good day."

I strolled across the food court to the Chik-Fil-A, where I ordered a chik-fil-a sandwich and an iced tea. The only question I was asked was "Sweet or Unsweet" (answer: unsweet). Within moments, I had given the helpful cashier a small sum of money in exchange for exactly what I ordered and expected. Kudos to Chik-Fil-A for understanding and meeting with such precision the nature of the fast food business transaction.