Friday, April 3, 2009
What they sell: Food
Date: April 1, 2009
My name is Roger Podacter and I am from Pittsburgh, PA. I am married to a woman who is named Leslie, and we have three beautiful children. I love my job as a database administrator and face a lot of exciting challenges. I enjoy spelunking and spending time with my family.
That is how I would have described myself only a few months ago. If someone asked me to describe myself today, the only thing that hasn't changed is that my name is Roger Podacter.
About 3 months ago, I made my normal lunch time trip to my local Wendy's to enjoy my favorite sandwich, the buffalo dipped chicken sandwich. When I pulled up to order I couldn't help but think how much I love my life and getting this sandwich everyday. To my surprise the teenage girl taking my order said that "we no longer carry the buffalo dipped chicken sandwich, sorry sir".
I immediately stomped on the gas pedal and fish-tailed out of the parking lot. I sped down the asphalt in a rage as tears overflowed my ducts. 86 miles later I was in West Virginia and handing my license and registration to a West Virginian state highway patrolmen. I had been traveling 50 miles over the speed limit, and in the great state of West Virginia you lose your license for such an offense. I called my wife Leslie from the police station and begged for her to come pick me up. Leslie had no problem doing this and said she would be gathering the kids and leaving now. I had about a three hour wait until they arrived so I decided to check out downtown Morgantown. As I wandered the streets I saw a local Wendy's with a sign that read "Buffalo Dipped Chicken Sandwich". I've never run so fast in my life. When I reached the counter I smiled and said the words I had longed to say "One buffalo dipped chicken sandwich, please".
My heart sunk when I read the cashier's face. "O, I'm sorry sir, we took those off the menu yesterday". I screamed the F-word at the top of my lungs and ran out the store. I immediately entered a nearby bar and began gulping down shots of Jack Daniels.
Nine hours later I woke up in a shed in Northern Virginia with what appeared to be a woman. Sadly, this woman was not my wife Leslie. They had driven three hours to pick me up and I had stood them up.
My wife has not talked to me since and I haven't seen my kids in three months. I obviously lost my job, because I had no license and no way to get back to Pittsburgh because my car was impounded. I have been thumbing my way west in the hope that I'll find work as a farmer or find a Wendy's with unsold buffalo dipped chicken sandwiches. Currently, I am in an internet cafe in El Paso sitting idle as my life runs right by me.
I had it all. In my heart I want to see my wife again and talk to my kids, but I know that I'll never be the man I was before. I always question myself and ask if I should have done things differently, and I know the answer is NO. Why did you guys ruin my life?