Intrigued by the unique name and ubiquitous presence of the Whataburger chain here in Texas, Libby and I decided to favor it with our business this evening for dinner. Approaching the counter, a young woman, probably in high school or recently graduated from it, asked us for our orders. Libby asked for a Whataburger. With cheese? Yes, please. No problems, we're like old pros. After her, I asked for a number five. The conversation that followed is recorded below as accurately as I can remember it:
Young woman: All the way?
Me: What?
The young woman's face clouds - she's bewildered. I decide to come to the rescue.
Me: I'm sorry, I don't know what that means.
Young woman (relieved but still confused): Do you want everything on it?
Me: Oh, yes, sure. I'm sorry, but this is our first time in a Whataburger.
Young woman: (incredulous) Really?
Me: Yeah, we're from California and we don't have them there.
Young woman: (energetic and excited) Really? You're from California? That's awesome! I want to go there.
Me: Yes, it's very nice.
Then she gave us our receipt and we filled our drinks and sat down.
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