I was skinny when I was 9 years old. In an effort to put some good looking weight on me, my mother would throw down to me from our fifth story apartment on Java st.,Greenpoint, Bklyn, a dime and 2 pennies in tin foil, for me to go around to the candy store and buy a malted milk. That was the same candy store which one day had the newspaper on its outside stand, the headlines reading” A bomb dropped on Japan”.I asked my mother what that had meant and she did not know.
Back to the malt. In my octogenarian years I find that little things mean a lot. When I drive through Culver’s, having ordered a vanilla malt, only to find later that I have in my possession a chocolate malt, my most satisfying recourse is to publish my disturbance on the world wide web. Culvers will pay for disappointing me. This also works well to a degree, when driving away from McDonalds with a fish sandwich, albeit I hate fish.
But I have come up with a new plan. Next time I go to Cluvers, and my dog maggie will be a witness, I will order at the drive through speaker, a chocolate malted. At the take out window I will as sweetly as possible inform the college student that I had ordered a Vanilla Malt and not a Chocolate Malt. What will she do? Save the Chocolate Malt and give it to the next person who orders a Vanilla malt?
In this age of anxiety and frustration (any one want to argue with me about this?) it is important to keep things in perspective. How about this? Keep the incorrect malt , refrigerated or not does not matter, and next time you drive through Culver and are served the correct order, before leaving, hand the old malt to the server ,telling her that you had been given this in error. Then quickly leave.