"Get with the program!"

That's what my cousin said to me after I told him this. Hopefully you'll see the logic in my frustration, however.

Let me give you a little back story. So usually for lunch (when at work), I go down to the local Cosentino's Market to grab a little hot food from the deli, some fruit, and a handful of chocolate covered English toffee caramels - which are my favorite, by the way. I try not to exceed $5.oo or so, and 99% of the time, I manage not to, while still getting a healthy, enjoyable lunch.

Well, not on this day... I get there and waste no time in navigating through the produce. I throw a couple tangerines in a bag, break off a ripe banana, toss some chocolates in another bag, and hit the deli with visions of a glass-shielded-culinary-wonderland. Would it be the orange chicken? Raviolis? Sauteed vegetables? Ricotta stuffed chicken breasts, perhaps? I don't know! So I fight my way through the crowd of mid-day, Bebe sweatsuit-clad Los Gatos housewives and right away, I can tell that the deli looks like it's a friggin' wasteland, without a soul in sight. This was not a good sign. I approach the glass only to confirm my grimmest of suspicions. The selection looks like a who's who of dishes you wouldn't even eat with your worst enemy's stomach. Burnt, crusty-ass fish I thought I smelled all the way in the produce department, some sorry-ass excuse for lamb stew, tougher-than-leather egg rolls, dried up, soggy, brown asparagus - I mean, it was baaaaaad. I knew I had to think of something fast. So I ditch the deli and make a run for the check stand with the fruit and chocolate I already have. Guess I'll walk over to Wendy's for a chicken sandwich of some sort. Just to get my protein, you know.

Upon arriving at the fast food chain, my initial thought is that if Cosentino's hadn't let me down, I would've been the only sucker in town not eating lunch at Wendy's, because the line spilled all the way out the door and into the god damn parking lot. It was absurd. But I made my bed, so I'll lay in it. At least I have plenty of time to get better acquainted with the menu. By the time I get to the girl behind the counter (Wendy, I presume?), I've made up my mind. I'll have the Chicken Club Sandwich, not to be confused with the Chicken Club Sandwich Combo. I place my order, and with a straight face, the girl looks at me and says my total is $4.88. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm a little out-of-the-loop when it comes to fast food prices. How could this be possible, I thought. That very same sandwich with fries and a drink is only $5.99. Yet the sandwich alone was $4.88? Surely, Wendy had hit the wrong button on her cash register. So I inquire about the price - much to the dismay of the shithead behind me, who apparently can't wait an extra five seconds to stuff his face - and she assures me that it was indeed the correct price; four dollars and eighty-eight cents. What could I do? I had to pay her! I mean, I could not pay her and look like a douche bag, which probably isn't such a new concept to me. But more importantly, I'd be leaving empty-handed after wasting all that time in line! Either way, it's a lose/lose situation for me at this point. So I decide to pay the woman and get on with my day.

Needless to say, the sandwich was less than mediocre, and to make it taste even shittier, I had well exceeded my $5.00 mark for the day.

Friggin' dooped again... Until next time.