Limp Biscuit

I’ve been noticing a trend in fast food commercials. Well, less of a trend, more of a marketing ploy. And I think it’s important that I blow the lid off this whole breakfast-making BS.

Listen up: despite what Madison Avenue wants you to believe, fast food franchise biscuit makers are not some rare breed that having a noble calling to get up before the crack of dawn to lovingly craft the perfect baked confection from scratch. They do not smile and whistle while they work. They do not exist solely to please your palate. They do not make their parents proud. 

I have seen them depicted in such a manner on TV and heard the same in radio ads. I know Carl’s Jr., Burger King, Jack in the Box, McDonald’s and others want you to believe this myth, as if this preposterous backstory was necessary to enjoy a fluffy, artery-clogging monstrosity crammed it in your mouth as you speed down the interstate, but it is and always has been a sad, sad lie.

I know. For I was a teenage biscuit maker. Yep, back before anyone had coined the phrase “Gulf War” – back when Carson was still ruling late night, I had a gig at Bojangles. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t bold and I was nothing more than a minimum wage slave working a part-time job that I hated. Sometimes I worked the grill, cooking up sausage or ham. Sometimes I worked the deep fryer, cooking chicken for the masses. But most of the time I was on biscuit duty. And not to suggest I did it poorly, no sir – I was the best damn biscuit maker that restaurant had. I got freakin’ compliments from the customers when no one else there did; I was obviously doing something right. But, heck, that’s my personal work ethic showing itself. It does not for a second take away from the fact that I resented being forced to work a crappy after-school job that interfered with my schoolwork and my social life. I just did the job as ordered, a perfunctory drone who brought no higher sense of duty or mission to the task at hand, and I was bloody well glad to get out of there when I did.

And THAT’S who’s making your biscuits. Again, not saying they can’t be good, nice people. I’m not saying they can’t bake up some fluffy deliciousness on occasion. I’m just saying that they aren’t some precocious, apron-clad, super baker whose sole mission in life is to create only the best, lightest, flakiest breakfast for you to grab on the go. That’s a bigger load of crap than that Loaded Omelet Biscuit Hardee’s wants to you swallow.

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