The customer in line ahead of me was ordering a sandwich only for herself. Checking my watch, I figured I had plenty of time for a quick bite before my 1:30 p.m. meeting.
Wishful thinking on my part.
“Do you want to add chicken, tofu or organic egg to your power bowl?” the server asked.
“Light tofu,” the customer responded. “Also, no chickpeas. But extra kale.”
“Got it,” the server replied. “And it comes with super grains.”
“Put them on the side,” came the response.
I checked my watch again. And rolled my eyes. Neither participant in the “make the power bowl perfect” conversation noticed.
“Chipotle vinaigrette or red wine vinaigrette?” the server asked.
“Is the chipotle spicy?”
“Spicy but not zippy.”
“So, a little spicy?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll go with the red wine vinaigrette.”
“Got it,” the server said. “Anything to drink?”
“Yes, I’d like a smoothie,” the customer said.
Upon hearing the word “smoothie,” I made a beeline for the exit, knowing the ensuing conversation between the two would certainly involve whether pumpkin seeds could be substituted for chia seeds. It’s why I deplore ordering food at these “fast-but-rapidly-becoming-slow” food establishments, for I consistently find myself behind customers I blanketly refer to as “The Substitutor.”
My wife and daughters fall into this category, so much so that I now refuse to pick up lunch or dinner for the family, for my middle-aged brain can no longer handle their plethora of special requests, deletions and, yes, substitutions.
“Dad, this has mayonnaise on it,” my daughter recently chastened me. “I said, ‘no mayonnaise.'”
“I thought you said, ‘no mustard.'”
“I said that too. And is this an onion touching the roast beef?”
“You asked for onions.”
“GRILLED onions. That’s a raw onion,” she said, pointing to the onion sliver as if it were an earthworm.
There was another sandwich shop across the street from my initial choice for lunch. I walked in and immediately encountered what I think might be the greatest piece of technology to ever hit the fast-food industry.
The self-ordering kiosk.
Impersonal as they may be, kiosks are the perfect remedy for “The Substitutor,” for they put the onus back on finicky restaurant patrons incapable of ordering food items “as is.” Why should the rest of us be forced to stand behind someone demanding extra this, half that, this on the side and absolutely none of that?
Instead, the kiosk puts “The Substitutor” on the defensive, asking questions in rapid-fire fashion and, subtly, making them realize that it shouldn’t take 20 minutes to order a sandwich. As I tapped in my order of a single burger, I was confronted with the following queries:
Did I want to add sharp cheddar or gruyere?
Did I want to add bacon, avocado or a local egg, or make it a double burger?
Did I want to substitute a gluten-free bun?
Did I want to substitute veggies for bread?
Did I want to smash the kiosk with a blunt object?
OK, I made up the last question; but, if I had to answer, I would have considered tapping, “At this point, why not?” Still, it was just me at the kiosk; I wasn’t in a line behind another customer pondering all those questions and saying, “Hang on. I’m ordering for the office. Let me text everybody.”
I tapped “finish,” inserted my credit card and sauntered to the front counter to await my order. Minutes later, my burger appeared, just as I’d requested it. And if it weren’t, I knew I’d have only myself to blame, for it was me at the controls. Such is the beauty of the self-ordering kiosk.
It was at that moment I realized I had forgotten to order a beverage. “Excuse me,” I said to the cashier, “can I add a drink to my order?”
“Sure,” she replied.
“Great! I’d like a lemonade,” I said.
“Beet ginger, rosemary, strawberry or unsweetened?” she asked.
“Whatever doesn’t require holding up the line,” I replied.
Substitutors, try saying that some time. Or use the kiosk.
