Funny :)

Very :)

Great piece, Tom. I have been there many times. I hate dressing, mayonnaise, vinegar, and nobody can reckon it. "No dressing on your salad? You don't want anything?" Over and over again, the disbelief is echoed. It's like I'm a commie for not liking salad dressing.

At restaurants, I've taken to saying, "no sauce," thinking that this is an all-inclusive term for the things I don't want on a sandwich or burger. One of these days I'm going to wander into an ethnic joint, and the guy behind the counter is going to say, "You don't-a-like-a the sauce? The sauce isn't-a gooood?"

As I read your story, I realized how often I have to go through this sort of thing, with the doubts running through my mind--"Are they going to fuck it up again? Should I have said, 'No mayonnaise?' But then maybe they would put Miracle Whip on it. . ." Why can't we start with everything plain? Then people can add what they want. Instead I get Philly cheese steak hoagies with mayo on them (from Marco's pizza in Ann Arbor), and I get salads that are made with vinegar or Ranch so that I can't get them plain.

"The cheese has formed a solid bond between chicken and bun, like edible glue."
This really hit home. Too many times I have settled, because the waitress was hot and I didn't want to bug her, because we were in a hurry, or because I was on a date and I didn't want to look picky or weird. It never works out, though. Mayonnaise makes me want to vomit. So there I am, on a first date, trying to scrape the damn mayo off of the top bun of my burger. I rip off a piece of my napkin to wipe off all traces of mayo off of the top of the burger and cheese (nah, I didn't look like What About Bob?, did I?). Surrendering at last to the mayo-centric society in which we live, I finally give up on the bun, which seems to have so much mayo that it is coming out of the top. I flop the top bun way on the edge of the plate so that it doesn't touch my fries--there it teeters. My thumbs under bottom bun and my fingers skirting the top circumference of the cheese covered patty, I attempt to eat my burger in stride. All the while, my date keeps saying, "Are you sure it's okay? Maybe you should have them take it back. I'm sure they'll fix it." Beet red and fully committed, I say, "No, no. It's no problem, really. I get this all the time." She gets one of those I'm-scared-for-you, you-should-get-help looks. First impressions!

I get disappointed all the time. Last school year, I went to all-day curriculum sessions one day each month. The teachers all raved about the catering. The sandwiches were the best. When they came that first time, imagine my disappointment--they were drenched in mayo--completely inedible. And the damn salad had vinegar all over it. I settled for a carrot. Every meeting it was the same. You have to watch out for pre-assembled meals that you see at catered events, on airplanes, and in cafeterias. There is something wrong with this country. Didn't anybody see those cartoon commercials that they used to play on Saturday mornings in the seventies and eigthies? "Don't drown your food."

These small details are what get me. They push me over the edge on a bad day. I know it sounds petty; there are much worse problems to be had. But when it doesn't have to be this way, why is it?

Maybe, in addition to the obligatory pissed-off customers, the system demands disgruntled workers (haven't we all seen incidents where a customer having food sent back turns into complete ugliness and animosity? It's a very delicate situation). I've been there, as well (and check out McSlackers). I'm reminded of a scene from Road Trip, where the nerdy guy asks to have excessive butter taken off of his toast. The waiter says, "no problem," taking the toast back to the kitchen, rubbing it all over his ass and crotch, thus removing the butter, and bringing it back to the customer. Maybe I was right not to send that food back on that date.

I have discovered that the only way to get it plain is to tell them what I want. Cheesburger, meat, cheese, bread, nothing else, got it? And I make them repeat it back. I never get it wrong.

Yes, I think Justene has the best method. When I order a plain cheeseburger for my son at a fast food joint, sometimes the order-taker asks if that means I want it without the cheese. Um, no, if I wanted that I would have ordered a plain hamburger.

You do indeed need to be very specific about what you do and don't want if you're a "plain" eater.

Disclosure: I'm a recovering picky/plain eater.

Tom, do you remember a certain scene in Five Easy Pieces? The Jack Nicholson character encounters a waitress who tries to impose the menu on him. He tells her, among other things, to hold the bread . . . between her knees. Never has ordering a chicken-salad sandwich been as funny. Maybe it is time for you to channel Jack.

I thought the world could be divided in two -- mayo (Best Foods, of course) or Miracle Whip (yukko). What a revelation to find that there's a third species!

Duane, they will take my Hellmann's Real Mayonnaise by prying it out of my cold, stiff hands. If someone mails Dirtgrain a shipment as a wacked out joke, he can just send it on to me. I also would not mind having the foam that weird people ask the baristas to remove from their lattes at Starbucks. Sometimes, the foam is the best part.

But, the really worrisome thing is how Dirtgrain's dietary preferences are likely to ruin his love life. I think he might have to choose between the mayonnaise drizzled chicken and the scantily clad chick. My advice to guys is to not to say or do anything that might be construed as odd from the first to the fourth date. Women are waiting for the guy to mess up in the beginning. We're already planning how we will mock him on the phone to our friends. Save that fear of mayonnaise, admission of secret toupee or acknowledgment of liking Mary Kay Letourneau until at least the fourth date.

Life seems to be very tough, in America.

I have often had Honey Baked Ham cater our employee meetings. They offer a "box lunch" or three different kinds of sandwhiches, coupled with a soda and a bag of chips.

The sandwhiches are just bread and meat. Little packets of mayo, "sauce" and other condiments are included.

Honey Baked Ham respects the picky eater. (But not the vegan!) :)

Miss H., I'll have an unprovoked slice of sarcasm on rye, mayo, mustard, and a dill pickle, please.

Life may be too short to spend standing in a urinal, it is also too short to be stuck in line standing behind the difficult eater trying order at a fast food place, thanks man

Why don't all of you individualists just pack your own damn lunches and get out of my way.

Mac, that's exactly what I thought of too: that is one of Jack's great screen moments. People don't say "hold the" whatever anymore, just "no" whatever - it's a loss for the culture.

A new Wendy's opened in our town about a year ago and for the first few months they couldn't get an order right to save their spleens - I think they brought in a fixer along the lines of Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction to whip their asses into shape.

Great piece Tom! You should always be able to get what you order from these holes - what the hell else are they good for?

On the other hand, fussy eaters kind of suck, you know?

Honey Baked Ham respects the picky eater. (But not the vegan!) :)

The *best* Honey Baked ham sandwich is a slice of Honey Baked ham between two other slices of Honey Baked ham :-)

I'm glad to see a few others who understand my plight. I have often wondered why someone hasn't opened a restaurant catering to people like us - were it me, I'd call it "On The Side." You order your meal, say a chicken sandwich and that's just what you get - chicken on your choice of bun, and then you choose the toppings and sauces. Not the other way around.

There is one huge advantage I have over people who don't care: I know how good the food actually is. For example, I always hear how great In 'N Out burgers are, but when I got it it was just the meat and bun. And it was less than average tasting. Why? Because what people are raving over is the combination of sauces and condiments. The meat itself is pretty mediocre (not to mention tiny!) Good meat should be able to stand on it's own, and I have a small number of restaurants whose meat truly is delicious - from semi-upscale like Houston's, whose hamburger is hands-down the best I've ever had, to cheaper family style like Island's, who also have a very tasty burger, and even fast-food, like Whataburger - easily the best chain fast-food burger to be had. But most people can't even tell because of all the stuff they glop on top of it. I like to think of it as being superior in a completely meaningless way. Oh well, at least I know what I enjoy.

Another great thing about special ordering your food is your guaranteed, pretty much, to get it freshly prepared as opposed to items that have been sitting under a heat lamp for awhile.

It seems in your story that you ordered some sort of bacon cheese chicken sandwich - plain, and got a bacon cheese chicken sandwich - plain. If you order a sandwich that comes with cheese they don't automatically take it off when you say plain. I probably would have made the same mistake if I was working at the counter.

I have a similiar problem as I don't like any sauces. About 1 out of 4 times if you say "no Mustard" they will assume that means to substitute mayo or ketchup. If you say "dry" a good portion don't understand so I have to specify "no mayo, mustard, or ketchup" everytime I order anything. Oh well, at least I know its fresh.

Best technique I've found only really works on repeat visits to a restaurant: memorize how most fast-food chains' registers work, then order accordingly. At one chain, saying 'meat only' does the trick, while at another you must subtract every item you don't want, individually -- no lettuce, no tomato, no sauce, no cheese.

Of course, I tend to order food only slightly modified from the norm, just to get it fresh, so I don't remember them all now, but when I used to order for a certain picky eater, I had the system down.

Eating fast food brings out the differences in my wife and I. For example. Let's say I order a burger and I get a chicken sandwich instead. No biggie. I like chicken and I'm hungry. If I'm not in a hurry, I might ask them to fix it, but otherwise, it's food right?

Contrast with my dear wife, who may, upon discovering after we leave the drive-thru that they dared to put lettuce on her burger, ask me to turn the car around so that we can go inside and correct the problem.

Here is my theory: Fast food chains don't hire based on intelligence, and they don't offer much in the way of culinary training and customer service. The tellers are programmed to follow a very small subset of commands, and when you start customizing your food, you run the risk of blowing some neural fuses on the part of your cashier.

The solution? Find places that have items on the menu that are good to you without changes. If you can think of fast-food as, essentially, prepackaged, you'll save time and trouble for yourself and for the happy employees of said restaurants. Customization is not part of the business plan.

Yes, you can have it your way if you want to, but don't be surprised when your order gets borked. And yes, they will fix it for you, but that takes time, which is, my friends, the most precious commodity of all.