You goddamn piece of shit motherfucker.
You unfeeling, uncaring, self-involved, greedy, conniving shitlord supreme.
Did you give even a second thought to the guy behind you, who also wanted beans? Who thinks that a hefty portion of beans is what really MAKES a solid Chipotle burrito? Who only goes to Chipotle, like, once every two weeks, so it’s kinda a special occasion – so I kinda have a lot riding emotionally on a satisfying burrito experience? Do you have even an OUNCE of empathy in your goddamn body?
No. The answer is OBVIOUSLY no – because if it were ANYTHING ELSE, you wouldn’t have done what you did. You wouldn’t have acted with such callous disregard for humanity – because there is nothing about you that is human. You are a soulless monstrosity, visited upon this world to bring misery to any and all who might have the misfortune to stand behind you in line at Chipotle.
But let me back up a moment – let’s go over what actually transpired in that line. It was 9:45 PM – a little late, which is nice, because the line at Chipotle usually isn’t too bad by that point. I prefer going when the line is shorter, because the servers tend to be a little more generous with their portions when they don’t have to worry about running out of certain items due to the huge influx of customers rolling through. And I had my eyes set on a chicken burrito – white rice, black beans, chicken, TWO salsas (mild AND hot), some corn, some sour cream, and maybe even some guacamole on the side. Gotta treat yourself sometimes, ya know?
But it was those black beans I had my eyes on as I approached the counter. The stock was low – not completely gone, but low enough that they might start to get stingy with it if things dropped much lower. But what did I have to worry about? There was only ONE other person in line ahead of me – I was sure everything would be fine.
But everything wasn’t fine. Because it was YOU.
I should have known from the start what you were up to – you ordered a burrito bowl….with an extra tortilla on the side. Classic move to get more rice than usual for essentially the same price. You went with white rice (not a big deal, since they’d recently refilled), but then came your bean order: you asked for black beans. Shit. Not the end of the world, but you got a nice helping of black beans – one anyone would be content with. But did you move on? Did you show mercy in your heart?
No. No, you did not.
As the server was going to move your burrito bowl down the line, you said “Actually, could I have some pinto beans too?” Classic. CLASSIC. Instead of asking for half-black, half-pinto (as etiquette would dictate), you tricked the server by getting a full order of black beans and then as an apparent afterthought asking for pinto beans. Of course, you’d only get half (or less) an order of pinto beans, but that’s still coming out at 1.5x the normal level of beans, and they can’t charge you for it. Brilliant – evil too, but also brilliant.
And if you had stopped there, I would have been perturbed by your behavior, but not filled with unholy rage. It was what happened AFTER the pinto bean sneak attack that caught me off guard.
You asked for “just a little more black beans.” And when the hesitant server added a tiny portion (maybe 40% of a spoonful), you had the AUDACITY to go: “Just a little more, if you don’t mind.” Realizing what was happening, the defeated server gave in to your poor manners and scheming ways and gave you a nice helping of additional black beans (maybe 65% of a spoonful – I was keeping track). From there you moved on, pulling other underhanded moves to get more meat than normal, more guac than would normally be acceptable, etc.
But the damage had been done. You had depleted the black bean stock by an unreasonable amount. And with no staff moving around to get more beans and closing time right around the corner, I knew what I was in for – a meager helping of black beans.
There was no one behind me, no reason for the server to open up an entirely new thing of black beans – so when I whimpered that I would like black beans, please, all I got was maybe 50% of a spoonful. That was all there was.
My burrito was doomed before it even had a chance to begin. Robbed of its beany quality, the flavors would be off – the rice, meat, and salsa would take up an overwhelming amount of the taste and texture. The balance would be off. The server asked if I would like some pinto beans to compensate (I was tearing up and biting my lower lip at this point), but I DIDN’T LIKE PINTO BEANS SO NO. Besides – MIXING beans? I’m not some kind of degenerate. I know it’s 2018 and times have changed, but I’m a one-type of beans per burrito kinda guy.
But even THAT wasn’t the final insult. I watched you as I seethed with rage – you sat down on one of those little stools, and you poured your burrito ingredients into your “extra” tortilla, creating a massive burrito that could barely hold itself together. And you chomped into it heartily, taking far too big bites, guzzling down Sprite (hidden in a “water cup” you had asked for – another dishonest move). And then – with still a third of the burrito left – you stood up and threw it in the trash before heading to the exit.
YOU THREW 33.3% OF THE BURRITO INTO THE GARBAGE.
YOU DIDN’T EVEN NEED NOR WANT ALL OF THE EXTRA BEANS YOU CLAIMED FOR YOURSELF.
WHILE I SAT THERE, EATING MY PATHETIC BEAN-LIGHT BURRITO, YOU TOSSED YOURS AWAY LIKE IT MEANT NOTHING.
I will never forgive this. I will never forget this. I will dedicate the rest of my life to getting even with you – for someday, I’ll be ahead of you in the Chipotle line. And I will demand they give me every black bean in the restaurant. I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care how disgusting an enormous burrito composed of nothing but black beans would taste. I want you to feel the pain and anguish I felt that day.
Now – if you’ll excuse me – I have to write an open letter to the Chipotle server who accidentally let one piece of chicken fall out of my burrito when they were folding it up.