Friday, 30 April 2010

Hungry Jack's, 29 April 2010

Here's one that I just fired off to Hungry Jack's:

To whom it may concern.

This is not your usual complaint. For starters, I really must point out that I don't eat at Hungry Jack's very often, but you know, sometimes, I do get a craving for one of your delicious Bacon Deluxes, topped off with beetroot, tomato sauce and onion to boot.

Why you don't pack in these ingredients as standard, I'll never know.

But it's here where my complaint starts.

Incidentally, I love the way that I can order amendments to your standard burgers. I love the way that I can order “minus gherkins” if I want, or “heavy lettuce” or “light mayo”. I have asked for “heavy all condiments” on at least one occasion, although I should point out that I have to be pretty hungry to do this. (I also should point out that I don't abuse this privilege)

(I've also heard, although you might be able to confirm for me if it's an urban myth or not, that some can order “heavy heavy this” or “light light that”. The mind wonders, really, what kind of idiot wouldn't just ask for that ingredient to be removed if they want “light light” something. Weird.)

And I can have my burger cut in half too. I like that. Stick a corkscrew in my side and call me twisted, but the standard burgers are not for me.

So on to my complaint.

If I normally go out to buy my specially prepared Bacon Deluxe, with beetroot, tomato sauce and onion, I will normally get it from one of your Melbourne city stores. Most likely the one on the corner of Russell and Bourke Streets, but sometimes the one on the corner of La Trobe and Swanston. And before long, I'll be sitting in a booth, munching on one of these little bundles of joy in rapture as the fat from two meat slabs and two slices of lovely melted cheese mixes with the tomato sauce and the mayo and, if I don't hold it correctly, dribbles down my arm like a pink rivulet that makes my arms slimy. I love this, although during the working week I have to be extra specially careful, because I wear a suit.

I really must re-iterate that I don't go to Hungry Jack's very often. Maybe only once or twice a month and, I'm sure that you understand that this is because I regard it as a bit of a fatty treat. As I'm sure you would also understand, 37g of fat is not something I could possibly go for regularly. It's outrageous, and you really should put enormous warning signs up so the bogans who eat there everyday don't end up having a cardiac arrest as a result of attempting to sweat pure fat through their pores.

That's not my complaint, though, as an educated person such as myself would ordinarily like to tell these suburban yobbos to effing well wake up to themselves and get better educated about a good diet and lose those stupid undie-revealing jeans in the process. They probably think that having 'Calvin Klein' visible makes them look classy. I think not.

So obviously, my burger is not something I have on a frequent basis. No offence intended if you personally like to wear jeans halfway down your arse with your Calvin Klein waistband visible for the world to see.

But here's the complaint: I can't get my burger out in the suburbs. Or at least, not how I want it.

This is a typical conversation that I had the other day with one of your cashiers in one of your suburban stores. I was in either your Eltham one or your Burwood one – I can't remember which. The cashier was a nice young blonde girl who simply must have been over eighteen or I couldn't possibly have noticed what a fetching example of feminine pulchritude she was:

Cashier: “Good evening, may I take your order?”

Me: “Yes, could I have a Bacon Deluxe and a medium Coke, but can I also have beetroot, tomato sauce and onion on my burger?”

Cashier: “Would you like that in a value meal with fries?”

Me: “No thank you. Fries give me indigestion, but thank you for proactively assuming that I had forgotten to order something just because I didn't ask for it. You should consider a job in banking when you get older.”

The cashier keyed it in. I noticed – as I always seem to do in the suburban stores, that she'd rung up “Heavy Beetroot”, “Heavy Ketchup” and “Heavy Onion”. I brought this up.

Me: “Excuse me, but I noticed that you rang up “heavy” beetroot, ketchup and onion. If it's OK with you, I just want “normal” beetroot, ketchup and onion.”

Cashier: “I'm sorry, but our cash registers only allow us to record these this way.”

I'd like to digress for a moment to say this is pretty weak. How come you don't have this problem with your city cash registers? But I'll get back to the conversation.

Me: “But I just want normal beetroot, ketchup and onion. Won't they now make it with twice as much?

Cashier: “I'll go round and make sure that they just put normal amounts on.”

She was a sweet young thing. But really, she shouldn't have to have done this, if her cash register was up to the task in the first place. She came back and engaged me in conversation.

Cashier: “You know, you're getting extra value with the extra ingredients. We don't charge extra for those ones, you know.”

Me: “I know, but I don't want these to overpower the rest of the burger. I really like the ingredients in normal quantities.”

Cashier: “I suppose that you probably get enough ingredients anyway with a Bacon Deluxe. I like to have a little extra lettuce myself when I order a burger.”

Me: “It's probably because there's already extra meat and cheese already in a Bacon Deluxe. How much meat do you usually stuff into your burger?”

She turned away at this point to get my burger which was ready and put it on a tray with my Coke and I didn't get to find out her answer to this. I'm sure that her sudden attack of the giggles is a reflection of a fun workplace, and I commend you on keeping your staff morale so high. I do think however that some older Australians might regard the fit of hysterical shrieking that followed from her colleagues after I sat down at a table to be a little bit too jovial and perhaps a bit undignified. You know how they like to unfairly generalise about youngsters and drugs.

Anyway, I suppose I should finish up with the obvious question: When are you going to get the cash registers fixed in your suburban stores so that I can have the burger I want without all that mucking around?

I look forward to your response.

Yours sincerely,


PS: Is it possible for me to order my burger with bacon and onion fried in your deep fat fryers? Not that there's anything wrong with raw onion, but microwaved bacon is slightly wrong.

I wonder if I'll get a response?


The Hulk said...

Quite possibly the most bizarre complaint you have ever written. I especially like how you go off topic on several occasions and how you provided the conversation you had with the girl.
4 star complaint from the Hulk.

P.S. Would you like an upsize with your ridiculous burger? he he

Dikkii said...

Did you like the innuendo at the end? Everyone I've shown so far has missed it, so I suspect there's a good chance that Hungry Jack's will miss it as well.

Cameron Davidson said...

Wow Dikkii, I think some of that fat has seeped into your brain cavity and made you a dittering old fart. Next you'll be complaining they have no knives and forks to eat your burger with.

At least you didn't have to deal with the stoned KFC cashier that the Hulk and I encountered. You'd think it'd be pretty logical...nuggets - sauce...but unfortunatley he couldn't make the connection...poor lad...that's what happens when you have 8 bucket bongs before work.

PS - Very David Thorne of you - 3.5 stars

Dikkii said...

You're right about the David Thorne ref, Cam. I like his work and I suspect that I was subconsciously influenced by this when I wrote this complaint.

This one, by the way, wasn't meant to be in character originally, but by the time I finished it, it was. An unexpected bonus.

Helpful and pleasant nubiles are always preferable to stoned KFC duds. I mean dudes