One of the ladies at the front of the Burger King line leans across the counter with a nutrition guide open in front of her. Her companion holds hers into the light, squinting at the 6 pt type and the rows and rows of tabled information on fat, salt, calories.... that's the end of that list.
The chart should really be color-coded: Bad For You, Very Bad For You, Only Order Once in Your Life. But they are very small numbers instead, and these are women in their reading glasses years, and the lighting is bad, and anyway, "I can't find chili," one of them says.
The next customer cheerily moves to the next register and says, "You ladies don't mind if I go ahead while you're looking," with only the slightest inflection because she is already at the counter. And the cashier at their register stands and waits, gazing the unfocused stare of the counter help, blissfully unoccupied for a few moments, and therefore turned "OFF" from the constant stimulation.
More people enter: people with children, who scatter in and around the brass-bar feeder line like free-range chickens, and start sentences with "I want" that they never finish. The ladies keep looking, muttering to themselves, occasionally calling out numbers to each other, the value of which always surprises them and is worth commenting on, but never with anything more than "OOOooo.... yaaah..."
Their cashier must spring to life to help the chicken ranchers, and must stand on her toes to see them. An exhausted manager offers to help the ladies, but when one snaps, "It's very impor'ant, dee-aah," the manager walks away without response. "Where is chili?" says the other one.
Two things that don't occur to anyone to tell them:
1 - have a seat until you find it
2 - Burger King doesn't serve chili