Have It Your Way

It is hard to imagine a time in the history of the United States of America when eating a Whopper hamburger was a big deal.  Now there are more fast food places than Democratic Presidential candidates, but not back then.  However, such a time existed,  and I happened  to be around when it did.  In the mid-60s Birmingham, Alabama had no Burger Kings, so when one opened,  it was quite the novelty.  People would line up to have a flame broiled burger made their way.   Even our family was caught up in the craze. Every Friday night in the summertime  I would play nine holes of golf with my Mom and Dad, then we would go to Burger King and pick up Whoppers.  But there was a recurring problem - Burger King was not living up to their slogan. They weren’t letting me have it my way.  At the time, I hated mayonnaise and tomatoes.  For a month,  Dad asked them to hold the mayonnaise and tomatoes on my sandwich.  For a month it didn't happen.  Every Friday night, my mom would have to pick off the tomato and blot off the mayonnaise.  So, it came as no surprise that on the  fifth consecutive weekend, we opened a bag from Burger King, only to find that once again my sandwich had the dreaded condiments.  Mom got up to get a paper towel, but Dad stopped her in mid-stride. He took the hamburger from her, wrapped the wax paper back around it, and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I yelled from the den, “Hey, can I go?”  I knew something good was about to happen, and I didn’t want to miss it.

Dad said, “Sure, come on.”

I smiled to myself, and followed him down the front steps.

The subsequent events did not disappoint.  We got in the old man’s VW and made the short drive down to Burger King. Then we tried to find a space in the parking lot. It was packed. Once inside, there were at least 15 people cued up in line.  What they were about to get was dinner and a show.

My Dad walked in, cut in front of everyone, and asked to see the person in charge. I stayed a comfortable distance behind.  The shift manager,  a pimple faced kid who happened to go to my high school, showed up at the window.  I knew him.  He was a thoroughbred smart alec, but this time he was outclassed.  He was a single A batter versus a major league pitcher.

Dad tossed the sandwich on the counter and said bluntly, “For 5 weeks, I’ve been coming in here every Friday night and ordering a Whopper with no mayonnaise and tomatoes. And for 5 weeks, I get it home, take it out of the bag, and you’ve put mayonnaise and tomatoes on it.”

Mr. Clearasil went to his standard spiel with a bit of an attitude, since he knew everyone in line was watching.

“Well sir, this is Burger King, and we fix the Whoppers exactly like you tell us to.  What you say, is what we do.”  He was basically calling my father a liar.

Now my old man’s voice had a bit of an edge. He responded, “Well, for the last 5 weeks, you haven’t done what I asked you to do.”

“Whatever you say sir,” came the snarky reply.  “I’ll replace it for you - with no mayonnaise or tomatoes”.

“Why don’t you do that, boy. ”

Boy?  Uh oh.

 After a few uncomfortable minutes, a freshly wrapped Whopper appeared.

 Before he gave it to Dad he said smugly, “Here you go.  And why don’t we  check this one to see if it’s OK?”

He unwrapped the paper, took off the top of the bun, and sitting on the meat patty was a giant slice of tomato swimming in a sea of mayonnaise.  His eyes widened. Busted.  He began pulling on the wax paper to get the burger back to his side of the counter and said weakly, “Umm, uh, w-w-well I can just wipe it  off.”

With that Dad threw a major league pitch,  a screwball this kid had no chance of hitting. “Like hell you can!” , he said. Then he stuck his thumb right in the middle of the Whopper.  Mayonnaise gushed out from both sides. “Get me another one.”   Now clearly intimidated, the shift manager was speechless.  All he could muster was ,”Yes Sir!”  People in the line who had been watching this whole escapade began to laugh and smirk. They certainly got their money’s worth for the slight delay in line.


With a fresh, re-checked burger in hand, we headed back to the house.  To  say the mood was lighter in the car was an understatement.  I laughed so hard and so long that I almost hyperventilated.   Once we were home, Dad recounted every detail to my Mom, who alternated shaking her head in disbelief, and laughing out loud. If you knew my father, you were never surprised at his antics.


As you might guess, this is still one of my family’s most repeated stories during holiday gatherings.   And from that day on, we had a new name for the Whopper that we use to this day: The Thumb Burger.


Please like and share - especially if you have a crazy Dad!

#haveityourway #thumbburger #mydadwascrazy