I had just taken my first bite, and my face must have telegraphed my feelings about what I was eating. My 9 yr old daughter asked, “Why do they call it ‘Ultimate Grilled Chicken Sandwich’ when everyone knows it’s so bad?”
So this was my moment of truth? The Ultimate Grilled Chicken Sandwich? The lens through which I would try gently to show my daughter the ways of the world? She wanted an answer, but I could tell by how she phrased her question that she already knew. I had pointed out to her in the past that, basically, people may lie to you if they’re trying to sell you something.
We were at Wendy’s and I was actually hopeful that the Ultimate Grilled Chicken Sandwich would be better than the burgers, which experience had taught me to avoid.
Silly me! I should have known better. Ultimate Chicken Sandwich came, and God help us if this is the Ultimate. It better not be.
Dried out piece of meat, a too-large slab of that tasteless though presumably easy to manufacture tomato preferred by the industry, a flaccid sprig of lettuce, all on a fresh from the microwave bun.
It was disappointing, I admit it. And annoying. And an example of why I generally avoid fast food. As the colors are bright, the plastic shiny, the signs huge, and the hype relentless, so is the food just plain bad (ok, maybe except Egg McMuffins).