Hit Wendy's drive-through a couple of times last week. During the stage when we had moved to the new place but had no food. Got myself their new pecan cranberry chicken salad and a combo for Mrs. Hillbilly.
They asked me what size and I said "large" which apparently is a relative term. In my world, "medium" translates as "amount that a normal human being without any eating disorders would eat". "Large" is "I'm more peckish than usual so don't scrimp on the fries."
Wendy's has different definitions:
- Small: Will feed a family of four if they had been fasting for seven days.
- Medium: If we were to spread the fries on to a plate, the plate would be approximately three feet in diameter. The drink could fill a bathtub.
- Large: All of Idaho is in mourning at the loss of their potatoes which are all contained within your Happy Meal bag. The drink is delivered to you in an Olympic-sized swimming pool but with the bottom part of it tapered so that it will fit into the cup-holder in your Humvee.
Oddly, the hamburger remains the same size, possibly because it contains lettuce and tomatoes, which are good for you and thus, deemed too expensive by Wendy's to upgrade.
This kind of value meal thinking is also prevalent in many restaurants in the U.S. and Canada. I've taken to ordering salads at restaurants in recent years and while it's nice that those old satellite dish companies have found a way to adapt to the new economy by providing their product as dinnerware, I feel like people are looking at my plate and thinking I'm overcompensating for something.
Here's a tip to restaurant owners: I'm not comparison shopping, I'm eating. I'll pay the same price for the amount of food I'm used to eating at home. And if the food's good and you haven't helped me re-enact a certain scene from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, I'll order dessert.
And it doesn't have to be wafer-thin.