So, I was at Taco Bell for lunch (because nothing is more American than mystery meat and cheese in a flour tortilla). I waited patiently in line, using my time productively by deciding how I wanted my tortilla folded, and when it was my turn to order, I stepped up to the register.
The cashier did not greet me—strike one.
Unphased, I said, “Uh, yes, I would like a number three—soft tacos—with a Pepsi, please.” (Whenever I order, I always make sure to specify all the choices so the waiter doesn’t have to ask a bunch of questions. It lets them know that I appreciate blue-collar Americans and shortens the wait time for other diners.)
The cashier punched in my order, still saying nothing—strike two. Continue reading Take it from Snee: Speak English or go home!