The Tender Crisp Scenario

To Anonymous Female Whose Name Has Been Withheld at Her Request to Which I Have Complied Because I am a Reasonable and Especially Nonymous Male,

      For over two years I have secretly harbored a complaint against your etiquette, a complaint which I have divulged to only a few of my closest personal friends. In fact, I had all but forgotten your transgression until a recent trip to campus in which we passed each other on our daily commute. As I prepared for a greeting, you simply looked the other way, pretending not to see me so as to avoid the extreme inconvenience of saying hello or even a slight head nod in my direction. It is this latest slight that rekindled, in my mind, the incredulity I feel towards the events of that fateful day several years ago.
      Recall if you will the scenario to which I refer. As a fellow student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and alumnus of Oak Ridge High School at Oak Ridge, it seemed only natural for me to accept your request for a ride from our hometown in Tennessee to Chapel Hill aboard my '96 Dodge Ram 1500 out of a mutual respect for our common purpose as well as the added understood fiscal bonus of having someone share in the costs of gasoline for the three hundred and forty mile drive. Further, I have given other students rides to and from Chapel Hill, and each experience proved pleasant enough, predisposing me to accept your request for transport.
      The journey began well enough. Aside from the potent Chinese food you brought to reheat when you arrived at Chapel Hill, I have no real complaints against the first part of the drive. We shared stories about our lives, and, after you fell asleep, I listened to an audio recording of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (my favorite of the series).
      Being a five to six hour drive, it is customary to stop for a meal whenever appropriate. As the dinner hour approached, I found an exit that provided several options for drive-thru sustenance. After asking your opinion (of which you had none), we settled on the safe choice of Burger King and pulled up to the drive-thru station to order. I chose the delicious Tender Crisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch Chicken Sandwich Combo and you, after substantial hesitation, ordered the same sandwich without the additional benefit of fries and a beverage. The friendly attendant told us our total and instructed me to pull my vehicle up to the first window, and I obliged.
      "You're total comes to $11.18," the employee informed.
      "Alright," I replied.
      I then turned to you and said, "I think yours was like four dollars."
      "Ok," you said with a smile. I waited for a few seconds but you continued to sit there smiling.
      "Ok..." I said, and I opened my wallet and handed the worker a twenty-dollar bill. We then stared straight ahead through the windshield as the worker retrieved our order, waiting in awkward silence. The attendant returned with our sandwiches, and I handed you yours.
      "Thanks," you said as you unwrapped your Tender Crisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch Chicken Sandwich. After a few more moments of awkward silence, I put the truck in gear and headed back towards the interstate.
      Despite the gentle sounds of Harry battling a Hungarian Horntail in the background, I drove and ate my meal in awkward silence as I attempted to reconcile the events that had just taken place. I wondered, did you not have any cash with which to pay for your own meal? Did you plan on including the four dollars when you gave me your share of the gas money? Did you think this was some sort of untraditional first date and that I was to pay for your meal? Since I explicitly told you how much your sandwich cost I am confident that you knew that acquiring the sandwich required an exchange of money, so I was at a complete loss as to why you did not pay for your own food.
      These questions plagued me for the remaining three hours of the trip. Etiquette kept me from demanding payment from you directly, and I assumed that the issue would resolve itself when you paid me your share of the money necessary for fuel. A few miles out of Chapel Hill I pulled into the Sheetz gas station, known miles around for their gas priced several cents cheaper than their competitors.
      After I refueled my nearly empty tank, I made a point to announce the price of a tank of gas so that you would know your share by casually stating, "Jesus Christ, $55 for a tank of gas. Didn't we invade Iraq so that gas prices would go down?"
      "Ha ha," you responded politely. Then you stared at me with that same grin in awkward silence. After a few moments, I merged back onto the interstate and finished the drive to Chapel Hill.
      When we arrived I dropped you off at your dormitory and helped you unload your luggage before getting back into my truck.
      "Thanks for the ride," you said.
      "No problem," I responded as I waited in uneasy anticipation, wondering what would come of the Tender Crisp scenario.
      "Here's for gas," you said as you handed me a ten-dollar bill with a slight grin. I took it, and after a few moments of awkward silence, I said, "Thanks." You then turned your back and headed towards your dorm, luggage in tow.
      As I drove to my apartment, I still could not reconcile the events of the drive. The compensation for the gas, while not delivered in the proportion for which I had hoped, was not a source of great angst for me, as I would have received no compensation had I driven by myself, and taking a passenger is usually little hindrance. But what about your Tender Crisp Chicken Sandwich for which I paid? What was I to make of that? Did you assume that the ten dollars was to cover the gas and the sandwich? I still had all the same questions that I had initially, but now they would never be reconciled.
      As I mentioned earlier, in the following months I recounted the events to some of my friends to see if they could shed some light on the situation, specifically what your motivation for not compensating me for the sandwich could have been, but they could provide no resolution either. With time I let it go, but seeing you the other day, coupled with your subsequent intentional act of avoiding a greeting with me on campus, brought back the flood of questions that I still have.
      Now I refuse to be victimized by your mind games any more. I demand you pay me the four dollars you owe, as well as apologize forthright immediately. Until these reasonable requests are met, I refuse to give you another ride to or from Chapel Hill, and certainly never to another Burger King.

All the Best,

Timothy Lee