No English ~ No Green CardDecember 18, 2009
By WR Jones
I’m going to have to stand firm on this English requirement for a green card or citizenship. They don’t have to know every word or how to spell; otherwise I would be out as well.
The minimum language requirement would be that they can tell the difference between light mayo and no pickles. I ordered a hamburger with fries the other day. Having been through this fiasco at different fast food joints the previous two hamburger runs, I was very careful in my wording. “I would like one hamburger, light mayo only. That is not too much mayonnaise.” “OK, anything else sir?” “And 1 order of fries.” “OK, sir, I have one hamburger, light mayonnaise only, and one fries.” “Yes, that is correct.” “That will be $5.43. Your order number is 756 – you should have got here earlier, you old dummy.”
I waited for the other 755 orders to complete. Another woman called my number. I stepped up to…. a lonely hamburger. “I ordered fries also.” “We no have fries, not working.” “NO FRIES! You miserable misbegotten cow?” That is what I said on the inside. On the outside, “ok”.
I drove off with my lonely hamburger. And as I’m driving and talking on my iPhone (screw the law, I live wild and free.). I reach into the bag and pull out my hamburger. Now I’ve got the iPhone in one hand and the burger in the other and steering with one knee. But I’m focused down the road so it is completely safe, you understand.
I bite into the hamburger. My taste buds hit the taste enjoyment blocking pickle and ketchup. Out comes the MF expletive. In a fit of rage I attempt to fling the offending burger out the window. Turns out the flinging hand held the iPhone. Furthermore, the phone hits the side window of the police car next to me at the light. Now I’m talking into my hamburger wondering why I lost connection. The cop, shit eating grin on his face, trades my iPhone for a nicely printed instruction sheet on how to contact the court system.
While he is writing my citation I drew this picture (from memory) of the, I call her, Pickle Woman. I figured maybe my attorney could make her pay part of my fine. (you can never over estimate the stupidity of a jury). Of course, being from memory, this may not look a thing like her. It could have been some big ornately tattooed male instead.
Maybe that movie “Supersize Me” had it right. This stuff is not good for you. Otherwise how do you explain this is the 3rd time in a row this has happened to me and still I have not learned to check the order before driving off?