All I want is a

All I want is a reliable place to get hash browns and eggs to go.

The place downstairs has nice plastic containers to keep everything neat on the way to my office, but ordering goes like this:

    [me, smiling] Hash browns and two eggs over-easy to go, please!

    [him] Sure thing! [a few minutes later…] What kind of toast did you want with that?

    [me, smile gone] I didn’t order toast

    [him] Oh, okay. [a few minutes later…] What kind of meat did you want with that?

    [me, increasingly cross] I didn’t order meat.

    [him] Oh yeah, that’s right. [He then delivers my meal. On a plate.]

    [me, scowling by this point] That was TO GO.

    [him] Oh, sorry.

Okay, so I can put up with Fuckwit the Cook every morning, or I can go a few blocks away where they have smart people and great food. But no plastic. Have you ever tried to transport an actual meal scrunched between two paper plates? By the time I’m back in the office, I spend more time cleaning than eating. Don’t bother to tell me how to wrap it–I’ve tried.

Is it too much to ask to be able to order once and be able to get my meal back to the office?

So now I’m grumpy and hungry and I hate all restaurants. Maybe I just need to get some hash browns at home and get my ass up earlier.

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