Sorry, Jack

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This letter is meant as both a thank you and an apology. I am thankful for the great time I had in Malibu last weekend. And I am sorry for my actions at the local Jack in the Box restaurant on Saturday night.

The mini vacation to Los Angeles began swimmingly (literally). My date and I spent our days at the beach. We took in the sun, bathed in the ocean, and allowed our minds to empty.

The breezy nights were as pleasant as the warm afternoons. One evening we walked from our motel to the Malibu Inn for a concert. The acts “He Met Her,” “Blueberry” and “Wicker” performed with energy!

Both my date and I felt more alive for having seen the show. We walked out of the Malibu Inn feeling euphoric and also quite hungry, as we hadn’t eaten a proper dinner. Jack in the Box was the obvious option. We were among several attendees who shuffled across the street to the fast food chain.

At this point, it would be unfair for me not to mention that I had consumed more than a couple of orange juice and vodkas at the performance.

As I waited for my food with receipt in hand I grew impatient. It wasn’t until someone who had placed their order after me received their food that I erupted. The level of volume and attitude in my voice was unacceptable. I demanded my food from hardworking employees like a spoiled brat and definitely lost my cool.

The incident is over now and all I can do is say I am sorry for my shameful display of selfishness. Even though my anger was effective at getting my food prepared faster, I refuse to believe that good service must be prompted by the threat of “freaking out,” “keeping it real” or “jumping across the counter and retrieving my own Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from under the hot lamp.”

Don Fifer, Berkeley, Calif.