I usually feel a little guilty eating factory farmed meat shaped into mass-produced meals, but when they have Simpsons toys as the kid’s meal (or mid-thirty-year-old-man’s meal) toy, I am there.
Collecting all ten would be a challenge, and is often thwarted when the burger jockey behind the counter doesn’t care whether you get a Spongebob toy or a Simpsons toy. I almost gave up and ordered on the internet. Then, Jess, at the London Road Burger King, went above and beyond (and in one case, deep into the bowels of the shop) to make sure I got the figures I was missing. Service like that ensures that Burger King is not just a guilty pleasure; it’s an actual pleasure.
Do you have any examples of workers who could be ground up by the machine who are instead polished to a golden shine of awesomeness?
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