Sunday's drive up your blog… with Ramblin' Rooster

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My Celebration Equals Someone’s Suicide

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I live about fifteen minutes, (depending on traffic) from where I work. Everyday I drive home for lunch. Not only to get away from the people I’m sure will enable me to a “life without parole, multiple homicide conviction”, but also to save money and let my dogs out. What’s that you say? The gas I burn driving all the way home negates the savings I acquire from not eating out? Fine, I go home to get away and let my dogs out, happy?

Given that I only have one hour for lunch and almost half of that is spent driving to and fro, I was forced to become addicted to microwave dinners, (you can eat sandwiches for only so long). Oddly, one of my favorites became Salisbury steak with spiral macaroni and cheese, (wow, how old am I?). I find this odd because to be honest, I think Salisbury steak is completely disgusting. I would never go out for a sit down dinner at a restaurant and ask the waiter, “How’s the Salisbury steak?” Wouldn’t happen, but that is not the subject to which I address tonight. Frankly, I don’t think that mystery will ever be solved.

So today when I cracked open my gourmet, frozen meal, I noticed that there were three patties. The box clearly states, right above the unrealistic and totally misleading picture on the front, “TWO beef patties in gravy with macaroni and cheese”. Yet here I was, with three. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but I actually got a little excited. “Yea for me!” I said to myself. Maybe today I’ll get full. After waiting the grueling six minutes, with a break in between for flipping and stirring and the two minute, post heating, cool down session I began to eat. Again I relished in the fact that I had received an extra patty, but then a terrible thought crossed my mind.

What if the extra patty that I was furiously snarfing down was cursed by the fate of the person who made the mistake and upon making said mistake, this person was caught by their supervisor and got fired? Here I am, basking in gluttony while at the same time there could be a person walking the streets, sleeping under bridges all because they accidentally put one too many patties in my box.

It made start to think about all the times I’d driven away from the drive through with an extra burger in the bag or received incorrect change in my favor or the got the big drink at the medium price. What if there’s a graveyard of unemployed zombies out there searching the earth in vain all because of misfortune to my gain? It almost made it difficult to eat that third patty, I’ll tell you that, but by then it was 12:40 and I had to get back to work.

Driving back, my mind switched gears and I thought of all the times I had been the victim of oversight. I know for a fact that those people didn’t get fired, ’cause I still see them at their posts, making the same mistakes. How hard is it not to put pickles on a burger? That’s all I needed to hear to make my guilt fade away and to feel balanced once again.

So if you’re out there unemployed food packager, I’m sorry you lost your job. If it makes you feel any better, that third patty really hit the spot.

Egg On,

Ramblin’ Rooster

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Written by Ramblin' Rooster

October 1, 2008 at 3:53 am

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