The Irony

There are always those moments on the job that make you step back and say, "Huh. How about that," and then continue scraping the petrified cheese off the quesadilla machine. Recently, our humble "restaurant" was visited by some local german soldiers. I finished up the order and called out the number, and, to my bemusement, they looked around at the other customers, then grunted and showed me their receipt, which matched the order. The irony? Three german soldiers at an american store that sells mexican food. The germans don't speak english, the english (americans, that is. Still with me?) dont speak spanish (mexican, hang in there...), and the mexican food then completes the circle by being eaten by the germans. That's the circle of taco life in full swing...