Let's (Never) Burger King.

I never thought I'd say this, but you know what? Fuck Burger King.

I had just one big blog-about-able plan for today, and that was to buy some Star Trek glasses. I need them to drink things from. And though it's weak that there are just four with Kirk, Spock, Uhura and Nero (Really? NERO?), whatever, I'll get two and that'll be fine.

So I get there and they're sold out. Who the hell bought them all at this particular Burger King? And then because I feel obligated to buy something, I get a fish sandwich.

This thing tastes like a garbage can. It's a combination of rot and metal and nothing in it even hints at good, crispy fish. It's literally the worst fish sandwich I've ever eaten. It doesn't count as food, it's more like an edible punishment.

Also, it's really expensive.

What the hell?! So I call their survey number on the receipt, and they don't ever let me talk to a human, just a computer with the unlikely name of Jennifer. And then they never even let me speak, I can only punch in numbers, the most commonly used one being 1 for "Poor." And as a reward, I get "one free Whopper sandwich or Original Chicken sandwich with purchase of any size drink and fries."

I rarely curse on this blog, but fuck that noize. I demand satisfaction.

So I call up their corporate. Yes, I'm one of those people. They keep me on hold for 12 minutes, and frequently tell me that I can leave a voicemail for them, but I'm not gonna fall for that trick. That voicemail's gonna go right in the garbage can, which they will then process to make more fish sndwiches. I need to speak to someone real.

After many minutes of bad music and Burger King trivia (seriously, BK Trivia), someone finally picks up. In a very nice and polite tone, since I live by How to Win Friends and Influence People, I tell them that it's really unfortunate that they are out of Star Trek glasses, especially because I'm mostly confined to the house and it's difficult for me to wheel to the nearby Burger King. She tells me that when the promotion is done, I can call and they will send some to me if there are any left over. But I don't believe her. That'd be too good to be true.

And then I get into the sandwich, and say that even my dog wouldn't eat it, and dogs'll eat anything. So I suspect something is wrong with the fish sandwich. And they should do something about it. She says she'll let the district manager know or something, and I'm gracious, and point out that it tasted spoiled AND was overpriced.

Since she took down my name and address (but not my phone number), I expect they'll send me some coupons or something. In the words of Dave Thunder "What a rip-off!" Why would I want to eat there again? I hate that place!

I intend on calling them every day for the rest of the month.