Killing Me Softly.... with Sonic

I've debated over whether or not I should post on this topic for about a week now. I'm actually still debating it as I sit here at my computer. I'll spare the details and keep it brief. Part of my job now includes driving to Sonic every Monday and making a personal order for one of our residents. What does this order include? Not one, but two foot-long hotdogs with chili, onions, and shredded cheese. Seem a little excessive? Just wait. Throw two chocolate milkshakes in there as well. Yes, this lady is on the larger side. I would typically be more sympathetic towards someone in her situation as it appears that her only satisfaction comes from food, but she is not entirely helpless. She is capable of getting out of bed, pursuing leisure interests, socializing with people, and taking care of her own personal hygiene. But she doesn't. And it kind of drives me nuts. I understand that this environment might be depressing for someone in her early 70's, but I also have trouble sympathizing with someone who expects staff to wait on her hand and foot (haha, I accidentally typed "hand and food"... Fruedian slip?), change her bedding multiple times during the day because she didn't feel like walking to the bathroom, take special orders, etc... when she is entirely capable of taking care of herself. There are so many residents here that would give anything for those freedoms, yet she doesn't even take advantage of them! Anyways, back to the foot-long hotdogs. I was not aware that I was going to be the sole Sonic food shuttle, but apparently that's the deal. I had a nursing aide pop into my office at about 4:55 on Monday afternoon.... five minutes before I was leaving for the day. She told me that this resident was asking about her hotdogs and milkshakes. I might have cursed under my breath, promised the nursing aide that I wouldn't shoot the messenger, and begrudgingly walked to the resident's room. I asked her if she would rather me pick up the order on Tuesday for lunch since she was about to be served dinner from the Dining Room. She insisted that I still pick them up that day because she would eat them in the evening. Oh that's right, I didn't mention that this Sonic order does not take the place of a meal.... it's an additional one. Call it an afternoon snack if you will. I was not a happy camper. And the worst part of this arrangement is having to actually place this order at Sonic. I literally whispered into the intercom because I didn't want the cars behind me to think that I was ordering that much food for myself. Unfortunately for me, the Sonic employee yelled back, "Two FOOT-LONGS with chili, onions, and cheese? So really, you want two quarter pound coney dogs???" Call them whatever you want, just give me the freakin' dogs. Quarter pound each. Fast forward to Resident Council the very next day. The residents are discussing what they would like their "Meal of the Month" to include. We decided on an "All American" dinner... hamburgers, hotdogs, french fries, watermelon, the works. One resident requested that they don't serve the fat ballpark hotdogs, but instead the regular sized Oscar Mayer dogs. The other residents agreed... all but one. "Oh, oh wait... you wouldn't want the 12-inch dogs from Sonic? Couldn't we order those? They are real good... and only $2.99!" No comment.

Okay, so I sound like the most insensitive Activities Director in the world. I understand that I'm taking that risk, but it's been a long week. And on top of having to pick up her hotdogs and shakes, I had to spend an hour on the phone with AT&T trying to get her phone bill straight. Imagine my frustration.

Now who here is craving a quarter pound Coney?!