To catch up, read -They Can Hear You in There https://geanieroake.wordpress.com/2013/09/23/they-can-hear-you/
My friend recently acquired a job at a Taco Time and she confirms our theory that yes indeed, they can hear you in there. Apparently she and her co-workers have heard some very interesting exchanges through the drive up speaker. Everything from family feuds erupting over menu options, to the startling details (names included) of a local celebrity’s extramarital affair.
The one they most recently got the giggles over was a couple ordering a Big Juan burrito
Man: “I think I’ll have one of them Big Ju-on burritos.”
Wife:“Big Ju-On? What’s a Big Ju-on?”
Man: “I think its one a’ them Spanish names, like Jo-zay.” (They think he meant Jose.)
Listen up fast food patrons of the world. That little speaker is a two-way affair.( Sort of.) Even if no one seems to be at the other end of the crackling metal box, don’t believe it. The whole idea is for the employee on the other end to be able to hear what’s being said in your car.
Now, does it strike anyone else as odd, that while they can often hear every word we say, we can’t hear them? My end of a fast food conversation always sounds like a cell phone breaking up.
Fast food employee: “Welcome to . . static, gargle, fizz . . . “your order?”
Me: “Yes, I’d like a hamburger, fries and a drink, please.”
FFE: “Was that a . . . feedback, strangle, crackle . . . and a drink?”
Me: “Uh, yes – I think so.”
You never know what you’ll end up with. Instead of mystery meat, it’s mystery meal.
Anyway, I would be annoyed by this issue, but I think I’m on to them. They do it on purpose. I used to work at one of these places when I was a teen, and believe me you don’t want to hear what’s going on at their end. ( I distinctly remember my friend riding his motorcycle into the kitchen one night when the manager was foolish enough to call in sick.) Take it from one who’s been there, when it comes to the details of fast food preparation, ignorance is bliss.
Now, I am aware that by divulging these dark secrets of the fast food world, I have made the lives of the employees vastly less entertaining. I apologize for that, but not for this expos’e. It was something that simply had to be revealed, and if the Wahington Post wants to take this and run with it, they have my blessing. We could call it Deep Fry, or maybe Deep Float – as in rootbeer.
Remember, they can here you in there. Beware, if you care.