I Am A Disgusted Human Being

Wanna know how prepared I was to write this? In my stupid big fat brain I knew I wanted to do this like two months ago. It just kept getting put into the "you can write this later, man" part of my brain. I'm even feeling that right now. I mean, it's already 4:58 in the afternoon?? Wait. Oh God. Did I say two months earlier? Dammit, I meant, yep, just about three months now. Or not? When did this happen, beginning of February? Alright, we're closer to three months than we are two months. But this just shows how dedicated I am to all of this. Get yer expectations ready folks, because they're about to be obliterated by a verbal sledgehammer.

It was the first Saturday of February. I think that was actually the first day of February, but I could be wrong. Of course, I could check a calendar for reference, but that could take forever to load (and it did and it wasn't even worth it in the long run either). I was in Wisconsin near some lake on a Young Life leaders retreat. It was a fun and good time, especially because a small blizzard had fallen and the place we were staying had a layout not dissimilar to how I imagine(d) a suburbanized area of Hoth would look. Like if Hoth needed a place for businesses to come and learn how to team-build out in a snowy tundra. Also, it kind of looks like the Overlook hotel so there could be an undertone of the moon landing being faked by Stanley Kubrick (that's right, I saw Room 237).


On that Saturday night a group of us from the North Side of the Chicago Young Life team (is that the right term? Surely teams have uniforms and I don't think we have those....unless you count an impeccable sense of dressing not only fashionably but also stylishly) we were given some time to explore what you'd expect Wisconsin to offer (within a 2.5 mile radius) in terms of food grabbin'. The three most popular options, because of their convince in location boiled down to the following: Chili's, Culver's and Panera Bread. We're all about the experience and with experience comes sitting down and engaging with your fellow man/teammate.

This is where you learn if you can let someone in on a trust fall. This is where you learn if you can transport that hula hoop around the circle without breaking hand holding. This is where you learn if you can do that other hula hoop team building thing with other like-minded individuals! This is where-wait a second.....how many freaking team building exercises are dependent on a hula hoop? Honestly, google image search "hula hoop team building" and the results are nearly endless. Yeh, a lot of them are repeats of the same "exercise" but it's still staggering. This is where Dundee nominees become Dundee winners. This is Chili's, yo.

And at Chili's, there's a certain type of protocol that goes on, besides the impending doom that awaits your intestines from eating their food or feeling like a radio personality from Kiss FM could stumble in and demand to "buy you a delish 'Triple Dipper.'" No thank you, establishment that somehow gets overlooked as top contender for Guy Fieri's biggest influence or favorite restaurant to never appear on Triple D (Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives; though the case could be made that "Triple D" also could stand for a "Triple Dipper"-coincidence?? I doubt it ((cue Musers conspiracy music)).

If we're being realistic, this is me at my simplest
or possibly not trying my hardest

There's an even more centralized protocol that's specifically targeted at me and it's a little thing called shame. The waiters and waitress can snap their fingers and just like that, shame even the healthiest (in terms of self-esteem) of people into thinking that they're wrong forever and always. Now, I'm a simple man. I enjoy simple things, things that some people might call "childish" or "bland" like a cheeseburger just plain and dry. That means some buns, that means a meat patty and that means a slice of cheese (at your establishment's discretion, though I don't know why you'd want two slices of cheese on a burger-that destroys the established ratio that's worked for literally hundreds of years or however long burgers have been served). Sometimes you want to spice things up a bit and you'd like ketchup with that grouping. I know I didn't just include it, but that's okay, right? It's not a "cheese & ketchup" burger, in fact if it were called that, I'd probably not order it and this whole thing could've been avoided probably.

So I'm sitting in an uncomfortably tall chair illuminated by some neon signs and an NBA game (could've been Indiana/Brooklyn, could've been Miami/New York, I don't remember and those two seem like the most profitable ones to broadcast nationally on a Saturday night). Our....waitress approached the table and it was time to put in the orders. I don't remember where in the order of orders I was, but I know I wasn't first and I'm not vindictive enough to remember a mundane detail like that (I am, however, vindictive enough to remember other mundane details like this whole stupid thing). I do remember being penalized for my order twice. The first offense, I understand. Instead of calling whatever their burger is called I just called it a cheeseburger. So there was this exchange:

Me: "Could I have the cheeseburger, please wi-"
Kaylee*: "The what?"
Me: "Cheeseburger....?"
Kaylee: "Oohh, you mean the ____________."
Me: "Yeh, I guess."

*I don't know if her name is Kaylee, but that name looks both obnoxious and accurate so I'm sticking with it

But that's unavoidable almost anywhere. I didn't want to play along with whatever game they've got going on at Chili's and their food that's not labeled as food. The second penalization though....that's the one that gets the blood boiling.

Kaylee: "And what all would you like on that?"
Me: "Could I get that with just meat, cheese and ketchup only?"
*writes down in notepad*
Kaylee: "Uh-huh. The ketchup's on the table."

At those faithful words dripped out of her mouth, I was then transported back years to a previous experience just as infuriating at another Chili's. I made the same order, maybe changing the placement of some words, who could know for sure? And yet the same response came: "ketchup's on the table." Except I think the first time it ever happened, the waiter said "bro" afterwards, but that's just semantics.

"Ketchup's on the table"-I don't think there's been a phrase that could mean so little that has brought such frustration and anger into my life before. I guess I appreciate the fact that the waitstaff at Chili's, nationwide apparently, don't just play along with me saying they'll put ketchup on my burger and then don't, because of the placement of the ketchup. But no, that's bullshit and they know it. There's no need to bring up the placement of a condiment especially when I just ask for it on my meal. It makes me feel stupid and it's downright condescending. "Ha, this idiot didn't notice that there's ketchup on the table in case he wants to put some on his burger! I swear they just keep getting dumber and dumber. Ah ha-ah-haha-mua-ha-uh-hahaha!"

What makes Chili's think they're so much better than literally every place that serves burgers on the planet, that they refuse to put ketchup on their burger? A bullshit attitude, that's what! In reality, I shouldn't be getting this upset over something as small as a place not putting a condiment on my burger. But no, I stand firm in my anger towards the chain. It's the principal of the matter. I couldn't care less that there's ketchup on the table, if anything, that's for the side of fries that are equally disgusting as this GD burger that you don't put ketchup on. And maybe that's the root of it all. I already feel stupid for eating Chili's, because it's just the worst type of food, but by telling me that the ketchup's on the table and I have to administer it myself means that I have to fend for myself in this big bad world. We're all alone at one part in this journey of life and it begins not where you'd expect: your local Chili's.

Nope, it's because Chili's sucks. And Applebees is no better. Chili's, I hope your stock plummets and you become the next Bennigans. I hope there's a fire, where you keep all your money like some kind of weird parody of Scrooge McDuck. I hope no one is severely injured or killed in this fire, except for the hopes and dreams of the jerk who declared "WE WILL NOT PUT KETCHUP ON OUR BURGERS!" And also Kaylee. Actually, everyone involved with Chili's. I hate all of you.