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Peter Baker

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Posted Wednesday, June 13, 2001, at 9:00 PM ET

To many, the words "fast food" represent tainted mystery meats, poor sanitary conditions, and disgruntled employees who spit in sandwiches and drinks. I am always surprised to see this vision of fast food promoted by the media (Krustyburger, the fast food joint in The Simpsons, is a disease-ridden hellhole) and urban myths about cockroaches in taco meat and horses in hamburger. These negative conceptions may apply to fast food restaurants in general but not to the Wendy's of Carlisle, Pa..

People often ask me about burgers dropped and burgers sneezed on. The truth in my experience is: If somebody drops meat on the floor, they throw it away. More meat is readily available at no cost to the employee, so why should he or she hesitate to toss out any questionable products? This applies not only to meat. Every day, hundreds of buns, potatoes, and vegetables are thrown out because they aren't quite right. The money represented is negligible to a company like Wendy's, so taking a chance is counterintuitive to a sensible employee.

Wendy's, although it does not sparkle, is a clean place—cleaner and more organized than most kitchens. And I have never seen someone spit in or otherwise violate a customer's food or drink. There are few good reasons to do so and fewer opportunities, as drinks and sandwiches are prepared in plain view of their purchaser.

Also, remember that contrary to popular belief Wendy's is not ruled by surly, apathetic teen-agers, but by career managers (no, they don't sexually harass us), sweet old women, and fairly innocent young people who are probably trying to make money for one or more of the three Cs: Clothes, Cars, College. These are not the kinds of people who are willing to sacrifice their source of income for a foolish and disgusting stunt.

But despite the fact that few can attest to finding a thick glob of spittle in their food or falling ill after eating uncooked meat, people are surprisingly wary of fast food, usually eating there only for the sake of convenience. There are, however, some customers to whom the Carlisle Wendy's is a latter-day Cheers: Everyone who works there knows them (and their order) by sight.

There is an old man who comes in for coffee every day. I think that he has a speech impediment, for he never says anything. I don't know how anyone found out that it was coffee that he wanted. Perhaps at one point he could speak, or he wrote his orders on slips of paper. His arms (one of which hangs loosely at his side, apparently nonfunctional) and legs look dangerously thin, and he walks with a severe limp, but there is always a happy look in his eyes when he sees his coffee coming out. Often, he stays for hours, drinking cup after cup, leaving only to smoke a cigarette.

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There is an old woman who walks over for lunch every day from the retirement home across the street for her grilled chicken sandwich, baked potato (with two margarines, dear), and medium diet Coke. Although she doesn't have to (not because she is particularly old-looking, but because she has eaten here so many times), she always reminds the cashier to give her the senior-citizen discount.

A younger man in a tattered denim jacket buys a large Coke almost every day. A large Asian-American family comes in about twice a week for our spicy chicken. Members of a construction team, probably working on a nearby house or office, come in and pick up lunch for the whole crew. Determined geriatrics stomp over from the retirement home for their small Frosties (to go). I watch them walk across the street to eat their frozen dairy deserts on the comfortable looking chairs in front of their apartments. I like to joke with them when they ask for their senior-citizen discount.

"No, you? Really? I never would have guessed," I say with a smile. They chuckle and grin (most of the time), and we say goodbye until tomorrow.

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Posted Wednesday, June 13, 2001, at 9:00 PM ET
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Peter Baker is a 16-year-old fast-food employee at the Wendy's in Carlisle, Pa.
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