So, I worked at Wendy's for about three months while I was in high school. It was a pretty terrible job in all the ways you'd imagine. But my store manager had a special humiliation lined up just for me: every Saturday, I had to dress up as Wendy and hand out balloons. When I asked why no one else ever had to don the itchy, yarn Wendy's wig and put on her pinafore, the manager said, "You're the only white girl working here. Does Wendy look black to you?" Well, he had a point. But still!
Anyway, on the way to Atlanta a few weeks ago, my friend and I stopped at Wendy's for lunch, and I got to relive a few fond memories of my Wendy's days: