By Chuck Woodbury
I hardly ever eat fast food. Four times a year I dine at McDonald’s. Once every five years I eat at Burger King.
Today was my Burger King day. I was in Minnesota. I don’t remember where, except it was right off I-90. The only other choice was Dairy Queen, which I initially opted for. But I turned right when I should have turned left and ended up at Burger King. I was too hungry to turn around.
I ordered a burger, a Whopper, which is a big hamburger. Then I ordered a milkshake.
“I’d like a vanilla shake,” I said to the young girl behind the counter. I asked her what sizes they came in. I was hoping for a small. “They only come in one size,” she said and then she waited for my response. But I was confused. I asked, “If they only come in one size, what size is that?” To which she replied “Medium.”
“So you only have one size and that one size is medium?” I asked.
She said that was correct. She looked puzzled, like why was I making such a big deal over a milkshake.
I guess I was the only customer she’d served who found it funny that the one size would be medium. I mean, if you buy a pair of socks and they only come in one size, they would just be called socks, with maybe a label that said “one size fits all.” They would not be called medium socks.
So I told her I would have a medium shake. She brought it out and it did not look particularly medium to me. I think it could have been called small. But not large.