Alright, J Grill, It’s Come Down to This.

Posted on May 3, 2010


So, at my school, we have a thing called the J Grill, and it serves things like hamburgers and chili cheese fries and chicken tenders and whatnot. I go there kind of a lot, because they don’t close until 9 where the regular cafeteria closes at 7. However, I’ve determined that the J Grill hates me.

Why do I say this? Because my order consistently takes at least 10 minutes longer than everybody else’s to get ready. We’ve timed it. That’s science.

Also, I always take my food to go, because why would I eat in the cafeteria when I have my computer and squishy chair back in my room? However, they never hear me the first time I tell them I want my order to go, because they hate me. No matter how many times I say it, no matter how loudly, no matter what, they always try to hand me my food in a plastic basket, and I have to remind them that I wanted it to go, because they hate me, and then they roll their eyes and grumble something and have to leave to go put my food in a paper bag, and everybody is waiting and I’m the one holding up the line and its all my fault, and everyone blames me.

Now, people, you know me. You know I have that thing where I don’t do that whole verbal communication thing, you know? So today when they handed me my food in that stupid plastic basket, I took it back to my room. And I will continue to take their plastic basket every time they refuse to adhere to my simple request, and give me my frickin food in a paper bag. And I don’t mean take it, like I’m going to give it back at the end of the semester like I am all the rest of the silverware and dishes that I’ve taken from the J over the course of the year, no, I’m going to steal it, as in take it home with me when I leave for summer break.

My First Trophy

So, J Grill, this is your official warning. Give me my food the way I ask for it, or suffer the consequences of having your cheap plastic dishes mysteriously disappear, until you have nothing to serve your food on, and so you’ll have to start giving people their orders on like napkins and cardboard boxes and then you’ll have to use like old shoes and rusty pan lids, and then people will walk up and you’ll just have to dump their french fries into their outstretched hands and it’ll be all gross, and someone will get burned because you’re dumping freshly deep-fried food into their hands, and then you’ll get sued, and  then you’ll have to close down, and it will all be because of me.

So, stop that.

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