Mette Ivie Harrison, Children's writer, triathlete, marathons, Ironman, training, fitness, workouts, The Princess and the Hound, Mira, Mirror, The Monster In Me, The Hound and the Bear, Young Adult Books, Fantasy, Romance, yoga


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Shortage of the Eighties Published October 15, 1987 in The Thunderbolt The Victim: People Everywhere The Scene: Any Fast Food Restaurant The Crime: Priceless Ketchup Hoarded Where are the detectives combing the area in search of the villain? How can we stop this heinous subversion of ours very children, the lifeblood of America> It is an outrage, indeed a violation of every liberty given to man by God and government! The elastic clause surely covers ketchup, and yet no congressman, no presidential candidate comes forth to champion the cause! What has America come to? Will atomic weapons and space shuttles remain forever foremost in the minds of this and every other administration? Will the President never be briefed on the ketchup shortage? Will there never be a Secretary of Fast Food? When will Americans get their priorities straight? I have been to plenty a fast food restaurant and there is rarely an occasion on which I come out smiling. Let me share a typical experience at McBurger Box. I walk up to the counter, the hostess smiles at me, and I place my order cautiously, making sure my usual French fries are included. Amidst a sea of other customers (generally two or three), she frantically assembles my order. While allowing my fries to chill and my drink to warm, she chats with the chef, then calls my number. I examine my tray to be sure all is on it, then return to my seat. I start in on my sandwich, and midway through nibble on a French fry. One tastes great--salty and cold--just the way I like them. Two and three are also fine. Four is not. I look for the ketchup. It is not on the table. It is not under the tray. It is not near the straws and napkins. Not a single package is to be found anywhere! I try dipping them in my sandwich. It's just not the same. My drink is likewise no substitute. Discouraged, I walk up to the hostess, and ask, "Where can I get some ketchup?" "How many would you like, Miss?" Resisting the impulse to pull out a machine gun and say, "As many as you got, Baby," I instead answer, "Two packets, please." The hostess says, "Come again soon," as she hands me two micropackets of ketchup. I return dejectedly to my seat and open the ketchup. There is nowhere to put it. In disgust, I walk out. Choice experiences such as this one are not hard to come by. After conferring with several friends who claimed that even in the drive-thru ketchup is not given out, I decided my last resort was a written complaint. First, however, I asked the manager of fast food restaurant why ketchup was not handed out. She fed me an astounding figure. $1,000 a year is saved by cheating the customer out of his/her money. I thought to myself, surely you lose enough customers by not handing out ketchup to more than compensate for the gain. As a consumer of French fries, I expect some 70 or 80 odd cents should cover the cost of a couple peeled potatoes and a packet or two of ketchup. If at least the customer was asked if ketchup was desired, or even a sign which read "Remember to ask for ketchup" was posted, thisproblem could be solved. It is simply embarrassing to walk up to a counter and ask for ketchup: you feel like some sort of half-wit. A boycott of fast food by teenagers, the main consumers of fast food, would also be effective. This issue is one that has not, but must be addressed! Time is of the utomst importance! Do this for your children, your granchildren! Uphold the standards of Americanism! Return to home page

Shortage of the Eighties

Published October 15, 1987 in The Thunderbolt

The Victim: People Everywhere

The Scene: Any Fast Food Restaurant

The Crime: Priceless Ketchup Hoarded

Where are the detectives combing the area in search of the villain? How can we stop this heinous subversion of ours very children, the lifeblood of America>

It is an outrage, indeed a violation of every liberty given to man by God and government! The elastic clause surely covers ketchup, and yet no congressman, no presidential candidate comes forth to champion the cause!

What has America come to? Will atomic weapons and space shuttles remain forever foremost in the minds of this and every other administration? Will the President never be briefed on the ketchup shortage? Will there never be a Secretary of Fast Food? When will Americans get their priorities straight?

I have been to plenty a fast food restaurant and there is rarely an occasion on which I come out smiling. Let me share a typical experience at McBurger Box.

I walk up to the counter, the hostess smiles at me, and I place my order cautiously, making sure my usual French fries are included. Amidst a sea of other customers (generally two or three), she frantically assembles my order. While allowing my fries to chill and my drink to warm, she chats with the chef, then calls my number.

I examine my tray to be sure all is on it, then return to my seat. I start in on my sandwich, and midway through nibble on a French fry. One tastes great--salty and cold--just the way I like them. Two and three are also fine. Four is not. I look for the ketchup. It is not on the table. It is not under the tray. It is not near the straws and napkins. Not a single package is to be found anywhere!

I try dipping them in my sandwich. It's just not the same. My drink is likewise no substitute. Discouraged, I walk up to the hostess, and ask, "Where can I get some ketchup?"

"How many would you like, Miss?"

Resisting the impulse to pull out a machine gun and say, "As many as you got, Baby," I instead answer, "Two packets, please."

The hostess says, "Come again soon," as she hands me two micropackets of ketchup. I return dejectedly to my seat and open the ketchup. There is nowhere to put it. In disgust, I walk out.

Choice experiences such as this one are not hard to come by. After conferring with several friends who claimed that even in the drive-thru ketchup is not given out, I decided my last resort was a written complaint.

First, however, I asked the manager of fast food restaurant why ketchup was not handed out. She fed me an astounding figure. $1,000 a year is saved by cheating the customer out of his/her money.

I thought to myself, surely you lose enough customers by not handing out ketchup to more than compensate for the gain. As a consumer of French fries, I expect some 70 or 80 odd cents should cover the cost of a couple peeled potatoes and a packet or two of ketchup.

If at least the customer was asked if ketchup was desired, or even a sign which read "Remember to ask for ketchup" was posted, thisproblem could be solved. It is simply embarrassing to walk up to a counter and ask for ketchup: you feel like some sort of half-wit.

A boycott of fast food by teenagers, the main consumers of fast food, would also be effective. This issue is one that has not, but must be addressed! Time is of the utomst importance! Do this for your children, your granchildren! Uphold the standards of Americanism!

Return to home page