As I pulled into the Taco Bell parking lot last night, I thought to myself, "wouldn't it be funny if the drive-through employee thought my name was Preferred Customer? I wonder if I can get them to say 'thanks for your business Mr. Customer.'"
There is a sound rationale for that thought. When our bank issued our debit card, they issued a generic card with the name Preferred Customer printed on the front. We've never felt a need to get permanent cards, since we try not to use the debit card. So, random retail workers and fast food employees thinking my real name is what is printed on the card is completely in the realm of possibility.
A girl's voice came through the squawk box and took my order. I pulled up to the first window and a chunky 18 year old boy (maybe 19 if I'm generous) opened the window and I handed him my debit card. He swiped my card through his machine, bobbing his head with the music coming from the iPod he had hidden in his uniform. As the receipt printed, he looked at my card and cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.
"Is you're last name really Customer?" He asked.
"Yes," I said without hesitation, "I had cruel parents."
He looked at me with a bewildered expression then looked back at my card. "Oh," he said as he chuckled nervously. "I just noticed it says your first name is Preferred. Hehe."
He handed the card back to me and apologized. "Sorry dude, I'm really tired."
I drove up to the next window to get my food, and I internally marveled at my brief and instantly fulfilled prophesy.
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