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.