Kiosk King for a Day

At 29, you think you’ve got life figured out—especially when it comes to the simple task of ordering fast food. So there I was, feeling like a king walking into my favorite burger joint. They had these shiny new kiosks for self-ordering, and I was about to skip the line like the entitled ’95-born legend I am.

But as fate would have it, every time I tapped the screen with the authority of someone who thinks they own the place, nothing happened. I huffed, I puffed, and I side-eyed the employees like it was their fault I couldn’t work basic technology. Then came the real kicker—a very clear, very mocking sign that read: “Out of Service.”

The line of people behind me? Half annoyed, half laughing at my expense. And me? Well, let’s say I didn’t exactly melt into the shadows gracefully.

Consequence: I had to sheepishly join the regular line, where I earned plenty of side-eye for my earlier dramatics.

Lesson learned: Maybe read the signs next time before assuming the universe is out to get me.