According to Hofmann: Too fast too food…almost
I鈥檓 going to have to go through my archives of columns because with the subject of this week鈥檚, I鈥檓 starting to feel like I鈥檓 the Weird Al Yankovic of humor columnists.
It鈥檚 not because my columns are funny 鈥� good lord no! 鈥� but because I think I鈥檓 writing about food way too much.
For the record, Weird Al has an epic number of parody songs for all genres of music, but he鈥檚 also known for food-related parody hits like 鈥淪pam,鈥� 鈥淢y Bologna,鈥� 鈥淚 Love Rocky Road,鈥� 鈥淟asagna,鈥� 鈥淭aco Grande,鈥� 鈥淓at It鈥� and 鈥淔at鈥�, which, well, is what you get for making Weird Al your playlist when you鈥檙e trying to work out.
Anyway, I was struck with the idea that I鈥檓 writing too much about food when I had an idea for another column about fast food and I thought, 鈥淩eally? Another column about fast food?鈥�
鈥淏ut it鈥檚 a funny idea,鈥� I said aloud while in my car at the fast food drive-thru.
鈥淲e both know it won鈥檛 be,鈥� said the voice in my head, which I assume is my rational conscience. 鈥淎nd the fast-food employee who just told you 鈥楤ut it鈥檚 a funny idea鈥� is only on their breakfast menu.鈥�
Like always, I鈥檓 ignoring my conscience and diving right in with this week鈥檚 column about fast food as I question if fast food is, in fact, too fast.
Don鈥檛 get me wrong, I like quick preparation and service as much as the next guy, and I鈥檓 fully aware that it鈥檚 called fast food for a reason, but have you ever really paid attention to the time that it takes from ordering your meal in the drive-thru to paying and receiving said meal?
What I try to do is compare it to the time it takes for me to make a typical sandwich. I found there are suspicious times where it seems like the family meal I鈥檝e ordered and double-sized is done and bagged and waiting for me at the drive-thru window before I can visualize me getting the peanut butter jar open.
鈥淎nd here鈥檚 your food,鈥� the fast-food employee says to me.
I hesitate for a brief moment as thoughts wage combat in my head like the distrust that the food was made too fast vs. ravenous hunger vs. the absurdity of the significance of mascots for fast food vs. the suspicion of what I鈥檓 actually being handed.
As you can imagine, hunger wins each and every time. Besides, I already paid for it at the previous window. That鈥檚 how they get you, you see?
So that鈥檚 why I actually feel good when there鈥檚 a wait or I鈥檓 sent to park elsewhere to wait for my food. It tells me there鈥檙e actual human beings preparing my food and not an industrial Rube Goldberg machine slapping ingredients together at a blinding speed.
The wait is almost like quality control in a way, which is why I鈥檓 baffled when the fast-food employee apologizes to me for the wait.
鈥淣o apologies necessary,鈥� I say, and I mean it. 鈥淚鈥檓 just glad you鈥檙e a person and not a food-preparation unit that can withstand an EMP attack.鈥�
鈥淭hanks, but we might have gotten your order wrong 鈥� maybe sneezed in it by accident 鈥� or on purpose.鈥�
鈥淎ll the more encouraging.鈥�
Of course, there鈥檚 a trade-off with speed of the food and quality of food.
Let鈥檚 face it, when you order from a fast-food joint, you鈥檙e getting prepackaged food nuked to something of a warm temperature and slapped together and delivered to you by sometimes angry people who don鈥檛 really want you there.
When you go to a nice restaurant, you鈥檙e getting higher quality prepackaged food delivered to you by sometimes angry people who don鈥檛 really want you there. The difference is it takes longer, it鈥檚 hotter, you pay more and you鈥檙e encouraged to leave a tip.
Yes, I jest, but seeing how some fast-food places have been accused of not using real meat for their 鈥渕eat鈥� and how the chemical makeup of some of their food items can repel black mold, I wonder if we overlook all of that because, well, it鈥檚 tasty and, as you know, hunger always wins.
I also think about the evolution of fast food and wonder about the fast-food of the future as we pull up in our driver/passenger-flatulence-powered hover cars at the drive thru.
There, after we pay through chips implanted in our eyes linked to our bank accounts, a robot resembling Rosie from 鈥淭he Jetsons鈥� emerges with hoses for arms with one arm reading 鈥淔OOD鈥� and the other reading 鈥淪ECRET SAUCE鈥� and then assaults your face by shoving the hoses in your mouth with the liquid 鈥淢EAL鈥� while Muzak plays on the loudspeaker of the song 鈥淎ll Star鈥� by the band Smash Mouth, coincidentally.
It almost sounds like something out of a Weird Al song.
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, 鈥淕ood Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One 鈥� and Dying, Too鈥� and 鈥淪tupid Brain,鈥� are available on Amazon.com.