The hefty scoop of seasoned diced chicken plops from the ladle onto the warm tortilla, an apt foundation for any respectable burrito. The Chipotle worker looks at me, tense and a tad flustered, anticipating my next request. Their body inches over to the vegetable section, hinting at their suspicions of where my order is heading, which means I conveyed a successful poker face. I have them cornered. Now a real dilemma befalls me: Do I go with the double chicken or do I go with a steak/chicken combo?
“I think I’ll go with the double chicken,” I declare, in anticipation that the following scoop will be in perfect proportion to the initial one. But in a cruel twist of fate, the second serving of chicken was roughly two-thirds of the first. This has been a fool-proof strategy of mine since 2005, and this worker is acting almost in defiance of the laws of nature.
I inquire as to why the second scoop is smaller than the first. It is implied in the term “double scoop” that each meat excavation must be the same size in order for the final amount to be mathematically twice the portion as a singular helping.
“I MAKE $12 AN HOUR! DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK ABOUT PORTION SIZE? DOES IT LOOK LIKE I KEEP INVENTORY OF OUR MEAT? I’M ABOUT TO QUIT THIS JOB!”
They move on to the salsa and ask if I want red or verde.
Verde, right?
"No, you clearly DON'T give a fuck..."