Why I Feel Badly About Burger King

I worked at BK all through high school, achieving the lofty title of "Assistant Manager II" at my store. That title was bestowed upon me shortly after my 16th birthday, when in one of my teen angst-fueled rants I began to spout off about how much better things would run if I ruled the world.

Our store manager, a feisty chain-smoking petite named Jill unwisely called my bluff. I didn't know what I was doing, and she didn't care. I was essentially slave labor, and I didn't care. The sacrifices of working while others went to the beach were realized in college when the scholarship money I had earned, ($1.00 per hour for every hour I worked toward room and board or classes where I earned above a 'C' grade) kept me rolling in clover while my friends were broke. At least for three semesters, when the money ran out.

It served me well in that respect. Of course, like a large item you buy on credit, you pay for it for a long time after. For instance, my employment and therefore ready access to fast food happened right about the same time my fat cells woke up. That sucked. And, my blood pressure is still perennially high requiring I be under constant care of a doctor to make sure I don't die from it. That also sucks and I am sure my diet had something to do with that, too.

Over the years, BK has sort of fallen out of favor with me. I will only eat there if they have a wicked sale, or I get some coupons. It's like the "friend" you don't want to hang out with, but sometimes comes up with the best tickets to a game or concert. He calls you up and your desire to see that band overcomes your greater sensibilities and you acquiesce.

I mean, it could be worse for my old buddy, BK. He could be like Taco Bell, (whose name is Isabella, thank you very much). She gives all she can give, and yet I only call on her after a long night at the bar, soaked to the bone with booze, slurring sweet nothings into my soft taco supreme while my designated drivers tries not to kill me. Taco Bell was born to be objectified and abused. Sorry, Isabella ( I'll call you!). Of course, I always wish I hadn't called her the next day, as she typically exacts a particularly unfriendly revenge.

My friend, a fellow "fast foodie", (fat foodie?), and I were in Wendy's not too long ago, discussing the relative merits of McDonald's v. Burger King. More specifically we were dissecting why BK took such a precipitous dive over the last decade. The answer of course, is consistency, or lack of it.

Like that friend you used to hang out with all the time, you had a lot of laughs and good memories, but these days, that level of immaturity just doesn't cut it. In college, it's fine to start out at a bar down the street and end up in Tijuana... that's what great stories are made of. But now, you're older, you drive a nice car, you have a family... you just want to go out to a wine bar, have a couple laughs, and be home by 10.

It isn't funny to work hard and spend your money on crap food of bad quality. You want crap food of good quality! I can't remember the last time I got a bad meal at McDonald's... and by that I mean the last time I didn't get exactly what I expected. On the opposite side of the coin, I can't remember the last time I didn't hold my breath at the BK, wondering just how bad it was going to be.

I love the idea of BK. I love that I can order my burgers without ketchup, (or catsup), without bringing the entire drive-through system down to its knees, ruining it for everyone behind me. I like the meat. I like the menu.

Wendy's is amazing to me. Their big burgers are some of the very best at any price. I would rather eat at Wendy's for 7 bucks that at Red Robin for 15... in fact I would rather eat at Wendy's for 15! Don't tell her that. That little red-headed strumpet will go and gouge up the prices again. You can't trust a ginger kid with pig-tails! I've seen Children of the Corn! But you can't eat Wendy's on the road, and I have a closet full of shirts with dribbles of many and varied protein infused origin right down the middle to prove it!

I don't like McDonald's. But their food is easiest to eat while driving. Their bathrooms are, on balance the cleanest. Their drive thrus, (while poorly spelled), are brilliantly operated and you can't swing a dead mouse without hitting one. In short, they win.

And poor old BK, my buddy from all those years ago... We'll always have that day with the Quopper with Douquecheese (that's 4 patties of meat with 8 pieces of cheese), minus ketchup (and catsup), minus tomato, plus mustard, plus heavy mayo and pickle, a basket of fries and a 64 oz. Mellow Yellow.

Kinda makes me want to call him up once more, for old time's sake.