Dear Arby's at Polaris

Fuck you.

No, seriously. Fuck. You.

I pull up, I order, I pay, I get food.

I get home. I try to eat food.

Sadly, the food sucked.

The sandwich was the driest, stringiest, toughest roast beef I've ever had. It made beef jerky appealing.

The potato cakes were double-cooked. How do I know this? They were dark brown, not golden brown, and dry as morning-after hangover mouth.

And the iced tea had no ice.

At least the Arby's sauce was good.

So, really ... Arby's at Polaris ... Fuck you. I won't be back. Ever.

No comments: