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The Hungry Jack's experience

They don't show you any of this in their adverts.  It's misleading and I want my money back.

When I went there today, this was my rationale -
  • It was 2.30pm
  • I was hungry
  • It was next door to Spotlight that I had dropped in to pick up a few bits and pieces
  • It would be fast and cheap
  • It was convenient.
Except, it was also the following:
  • It was school holidays
  • The drive through was blocked by a dirty big truck
  • There was a queue almost to the door
  • It was being run by the sons of Basil Fawlty and Manuel
  • It was noisy and crowded and dirty.
I should have turned around and walked away.  I didn't.  More fool me.

As I approached the door, two elderly women were about to walk out.  I did the polite thing and held the door open for them.  A little Teenage Mummy and her latest Boyfriend barged in front of me and in front of the older ladies.  Boyfriend did have the scraps of manners and said thank you to me for holding the door. WTF??  Being a wimp and door-person that I am, I didn't say anything. 

Teenage Mummy and Boyfriend and Dear Little Brat Child, lets call her DLBC, were now lined up in front of me.  Teenage Mummy tried to cajole DLBC into eating some lunch.  DLBC said NO loudly and ran off towards the play area.  Boyfriend ran after her after Teenage Mummy glared at him.  DLBC was now squealing and whining and I still stood there, saying nothing (in my head however was a scene from American Psycho, complete with Huey Lewis and the News sound track). 

Teenage Mummy orders a chocolate sundae for DLBC and Boyfriend gets a Whopper.  Boyfriend can't keep his hands off Teenage Mummies arse, so I guess DLBC will be getting a little brother or sister real soon. I get served by Surly Teenage Pimple, and a paper cup with lid cast my way with a grunt.  I assume I am to fill my own drink from the help yourself dispenser.  Another line. I wait.  As I wait, Pigtail Child cuts in on me and starts to fill her cup with a squirt of each flavoured drink.  She is a short-ass so can't see how full her cup is, so after each squirt she stops, brings her cup to her eye level to check how much is in cup.  This goes on for an eternity.

I fight every single fibre of my being to:

a) Slap her silly
b) Take the cup off her and tip the contents over her stupid blonde head
c) Ask her if she will be like this when she is 18 and in a bar
d) Slit my own wrists with the yellow straw they gave me

I finally fill my cup, turn back to the counter, and wait... again ... for my lunch.  Fast Food?  You must be eff-ing kidding me.  I can't bear to be in this hell for a moment longer, so as soon as the brown paper bag is thrust (and yes I do mean thrust, with no word from Surly Teenage Pimple) I make my hasty retreat.

I go and sit in my car to eat my lunch ... with Hip to Be Square playing very loudly!


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