A Knife with the Nuts

I was completely torn.  I had just placed my order at the Wendy's drive-thru speaker.

Should I ask for a knife when I get to the window? 

If I did, it would certainly tip off my identity.  They would know  that I was the “Knife Lady”.  The one who complained in a survey about how the drive-thru worker didn't put a knife in my bag.   The knife that I requested.  In person.  To the drive-thru lady.  Who said, "I already put a knife in your bag."

I believed her.  And got back to my office only to discover that she lied to me. 

So I filled out the survey.

And they’d probably know about my second complaint, too.  About the missing bag of nuts on the visit following that of the missing knife.   This time I posted a comment about the missing bag of nuts on their feedback page.

 A rather emotional comment. 

But I really wanted those nuts!  Much more than I wanted the knife. 

The Wendy's store manager had responded to my comment and was very apologetic.  He most certainly mentioned it to his team.  

I decided not to ask for a knife.

But I wanted a knife. 

I could always play it cool.  Casually say, “Hey, while you're at it, can you toss a knife in the bag?”  

She'd see right through me.

I thought about saying,  “Can you throw in a spoon?  Oh what the hell—I’ll take a knife, too.”  

Or “Can I get a cup of water and some ketchup and some salt, a straw and a knife?"

But I decided to err on the safe side.  I was not about to disclose my identity simplly because I wanted a stinkin' knife for my salad.

I drove up to the window and nonchalantly handed the woman my credit card.  She smiled and asked, "How are you today?"

I told her I was fine.

She smiled even more broadly,  and said in the sweetest voice I've ever heard.

"Let's see.  Yes, here's a knife for you." 

"Oh!  And here's your bag of nuts!"

I slowly sunk into my armpit and mumbled a pathetic "thank you."

Next time I'm going in disguise.