Today, as I unloaded beverages off my truck for a delivery, I had the great privilege of witnessing the following verbal exchange at an Arby's drive-thru order box, just a short distance from where my vehicle was parked. A scruffy, poorly-wardrobed man pulled up in his multi-colored (and multi-textured) 1985 Monte Carlo, complete with major fender rust and a partially-detatched rear bumper. The female employee called out through the talk-box, "Welcome to Arby's. May I please take your order?"
SCRUFF: Yeah, I'd like 2 regular roast beefs, small curly fries and a coke.
BOX: What size would you like?
SCRUFF: A coke, please.
BOX: OK. What size coke?
Interjection: I know sometimes it's hard to understand the muffled voice on the speaker of these talk-boxes, but I was a good 20 feet away, and could understand the gal perfectly.
SCRUFF, leaning out his window, closer to the box: I'd just like a coke, OK?
BOX, growing impatient: Yes, I know that. But what.. size.. drink.. do you want?
SCRUFF, leaning even further out, yelling: OK, fine! A Pepsi, then!!!
Interjection: Arby's carries the Pepsi line of beverages, but assumably, "coke" meant Pepsi to the gal, who was just trying to determine how thirsty (and deaf) this guy was.
BOX, deliberately, but professionally: All I want to know is what size drink you want!
SCRUFF, flipping off the menu board: Oh, just forget it, then!!!
...And drove off...
Maybe he'll have better luck at the Burger King across the street... I think they carry Coke!
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