"At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each thing that in season grows."

Fast Food Friendships

Started by Crenners, November 25, 2021, 06:12:32 PM

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I fairly regularly go to the McDonald's Drive-'Thru' and get a McMuffin, perhaps once a fortnight, sometimes more. I now know several staff by face and name and they know me the same way. I don't have to say my order sometimes. It's now reached the point where we have some chit-chat about sport or television or computer games, depending on the staff member. I'm sure the staff would be admonished if it was ever very busy but it isn't.

I would love to go back to the bliss of unbroken ice.

I used to live in Spain opposite a really nice cafeteria where I'd go for lunch more times than not and eventually (I come across as aloof but mostly take time to warm up) the conversation started flowing and we would gab regularly and have a good laugh. The boss even invited me to attend family dinner to watch some football match.

Of course I stopped going to the place because I felt uncomfortable about not being able to go there, read the paper, smoke cigs and not talk.

Over lockdown, the Domino's delivery guy recommended me some different pizza options because we always go for the same stuff and that's basically it, I'll never order again.

Of course, I am at fault here, I am a difficult person in some respects, they're just being good at their job and sociable but have you ever stumbled into a fast food friendship and suddenly realised that you've crossed a line and pulled the rip cord?

Dex Sawash

Went to some gigs with a McRib in the 90s


I use the anonimity terminals in McShitties; they're there primarily for shame reasons.


Quote from: Crenners on November 25, 2021, 06:12:32 PMI fairly regularly go to the McDonald's Drive-'Thru' and get a McMuffin, perhaps once a fortnight

I think you buy Big Macs several times a day.

Butchers Blind

I go in the kebab house round the corner. They recognise me and say, 'Hello, mate". That's about it though.

Blue Jam

I was on first name terms with the owner of Charlie's Fish Bar, the town centre chippy we always ended up at after a few beers on Friday nights. Charlie (Indian so not his real name) was a lovely chap, liked to chat and whenever I walked in he greeted me with a "Hello Steve". Steve's not my name either, but he thought it was and I never corrected him.

After a couple of years of this, you can imagine the confused/disappointed look he gave me when a colleague introduced me by my real name when we turned up to carry out a food hygiene inspection. (But not as confused/disappointed as when he saw me pissing in the bushes on a Friday night a few months later).


Am on the verge of complaining to my local McDonalds because the woman who cleans the tables won't leave me alone on my lunch break. I have to walk around outside and peer through the windows to make sure she isn't there, but sometimes she's lurking in the back and gets the jump on me.

Went in with a colleague once who referred to me by name, so now she's got my name. and by coincidence her cat's name is my name, so that's another little tidbit for her to bother me with. They won't let her use the tills, so she just walks around tidying bits up and asking everyone if they're alright. I just want 15 minutes to myself before I have to go to work is that too much to ask. Of course if I told her to fuck off, I'd be the wanker.



During a short, bleak period in my life, I perfected the system with the people in my local kebab shop whereby I simply had to tap on the window and thums-up/wink, back into the pub next door to down a pint, then pop back and collect my double cheeseburger and chips. Good times.

Sebastian Cobb

Used to go into the curry house opposite my local enough that he'd get the drivers to give us a lift into town for a couple of quid rather than getting a taxi.


I used to buy a bottle of wine at about 11pm from the Indian takeaway near my house so often that they'd ring me to let me know if their delivery service was busy enough that it'd be quicker if I just popped round and picked it up. I appreciated that.


Had a tab with the ice cream man at last job

At a local market a little place opened selling amazing vegan cheese toasties, relatively niche and owned by a woman and her two lovely (and very chatty parents), who remembered my gf and I's names and always ended up having a nice chat with while they prepared the food for us every friday, they even gave me some free things on my birthday.

While this was happening a new place opened in the same market which sells what is considered by many to be the best falafel in the UK, with queues increasing week by week until they were lined up round the block for these things. Out of some kind of loyalty/pride I never tried one, I just couldn't do it to this older couple, as their stall had relatively few customers and it would feel like stabbing them in the back (plus the falafel queue was opposite their stall), despite an intense craving to experience this food which people were constantly raving about. I was even considering giving someone some money to go in and get one for me like Kramer in the fruit shop, and then eating that AND a toastie on the same day just to keep up appearances.

Then one day it happened, on the toastie place's instagram they apologised to their customers and said that they would be closed for the weekend while the parents celebrated their wedding anniversary. Now was my chance, a free run at this delight I'd heard so much about and no one would be any the wiser. I dutifully queued up for an age, ate this unique and fluffly falafel beast and can say that it's one of the best things I've ever eaten in my life. Since then there's no going back, I've experienced the ultimate pleasure and a mere toastie will not suffice. After a couple of weekends of eating one of each on different days I couldn't live like that anymore, I've now turned my back on the toastie people and have to look away out of guilt every week as I slowly shuffle past them in the queue, the dad looking forlornly on at his immensely popular rival and me too cowardly to maintain a friendly relationship knowing what I've done to him...


Once ordered a lamb kebab (normally I get chicken) and the staff were super confused that I had strayed from my usual.


When I enter INSTABUL BEBAB BOP the staff all turn and see me and wave their tongs and spatulas in the air and go 'Aayyyyy whupp-whoooppp... Here he comes, here he comes!'


When I moved to Truro went for a local curry on the recommendation of my pretend friends in TripAdvisor. The owner either pretended to recognise me or genuinely confused me with a regular. Either way I humoured him. And never went back.

Lisa Jesusandmarychain

Whenever I enter Madame Mintminge's Brothel, I'm almost deafened by the welcoming cries of " We'll, helloooo, Mr. Up The Council Gritter!"


Back in my early 20s, on a Saturday night my friends and I would regularly go to a club night on held at a venue that was probably closer to a bar, and thus with the appropriate drinks range. I remember one night going to the bar and the person serving me said "bottle of red wine, one glass?" before I could open my mouth, and I started to worry that I was becoming some sort of talked about Saturday wino.

Mostly I take comfort from this kind of thing, though, because I tend to enjoy human connection.

The Mollusk

Guy in my kebab shop was devastated when I told him my name wasn't actually Garlic Mayo Chilli Sauce Bossman

Ian Drunken Smurf

Got the falafel place round the corner to cater for birthday drinks that a colleague and I held for a 40th birthday bash starting at the office. In the end the guy got shed loads of business from us and colleagues that he would see me heading to the bus stop and press a bottle of mint lemonade in my hand on Friday afternoon as I sloped off home. Used to pick up for home when wife was pregnant, lovely place.


I really hate this. If you don't really say anything you assume they don't know who you are, but if you go in there all the time obviously they do, so when they do or say something to indicate this it really creeps me out. I start worrying they've got a nickname for me.

Bently Sheds

November 26, 2021, 12:06:27 PM #22 Last Edit: November 26, 2021, 12:32:33 PM by Bently Sheds
I regularly used to get a cheery wave from our local chip shop owner whenever he spotted me as he was out doing deliveries. He always remembered that our pizza orders were mushroom free.

Years after I had moved out of the area I made a point of visiting his chippy with Sheds2. Chippy man was pleased to see me again and commented on how tall Sheds2 had grown.

Mr Farenheit

I was a regular face in the Malaysian family-run convenience shop a couple of minutes walk from my place. Not much converstaion but they obviously knew who I was and it was always friendly. Once I didn't have cash on me so they said just pay next time.
The next time I was there I reminded them and they produced the receipt wih "WEAR SPECTACLE MAN" written on it.

Sebastian Cobb

Ha I had a bit of that in a spice shop/halal butchers, although the bloke that gave me tick promptly fucked off on holiday for a couple of weeks and didn't know what I was talking about when I tried to bring it up.


My dad used to regularly take me to a very popular 'rice n' three' curry-house in Manchester City Centre; if you're a trve manc you can probably guess which one. Like once a week since I was about 6. The last time I had an actual conversation with him when he wasn't actively dying of a massive brain haemorrhage was in that curry shop. He'd came up to have a bite to eat with me and my brother during our lunch break. Talked about a canal boat holiday he'd just been on. I couldn't get a word in edgewise.

My brother and I used to go there every working day and eventually my brother started doing the social media for them in exchange for a free curry. Then he quit his job and passed the social media reins to me, and I got the free curry. I quit my job near the city centre over two years ago and they still give me free curry whenever I go in.

The owner's son would occasionally give me a bit of weed or borrow money off me, he's got my phone number and everything, although I don't think we'd have much to talk about if we hung out outside of the curryhouse. I know him by his first name, and his dad by 'Mr [Surname]' but I never learned any of the staff's names.

If you're not familiar with a 'rice n' three', it counts as fast food imo. It's a bit like a carvery except for with curry. The food's already made, you just point out what you want.

When I take my son in there, it feels like his birthright. I get a bit emosh if I think about it too much.

Sebastian Cobb

Oh yeah, I've been taken to Imrans in Sparkbrook since I was just on solids and went with my parents when in the area, when I went to uni I was usually picked up from Brum so it became standard when coming home to the point it's something I really look forward to. The owners son was roughly my age and he runs it now, I remember when we were both about 13 I was tucking into a curry while he had his Friday treat of burger and chips. They still give us a heroes welcome now despite plenty of other people probably going going there for just as long and more regularly.

If Crenners isn't Bosto I'll chew my own tits off.

Johnny Foreigner

I don't like fast food and, by consequence, know no-one who sells it to me.

Used to be regular at a tiny sit-in beer shop in Sheff; the only place I have ever been on first-name terms with both the staff and other customers. Enjoyed many a late-night lock-in, talking about etymology.

I have found no place like it since I moved to Scotland.


Quote from: icehaven on November 25, 2021, 08:43:01 PMI used to buy a bottle of wine at about 11pm from the Indian takeaway near my house so often that they'd ring me to let me know if their delivery service was busy enough that it'd be quicker if I just popped round and picked it up. I appreciated that.

Tell me you're an alcoholic without telling me you're an alcoholic.