The War on Qdoba has ended in a stalemate.

Okay, you probably need some backstory on this.

Because we, as a people, no longer fight invading hordes coming for our women, many in our mostly peaceful society express their now excess warring urges by cheering for sports teams. Or fighting oppressive governments and the like. I instead express mine by fighting small (but oppressive) burrito stands.

Qdoba is a burrito restaurant here in Fort Worth. Their claim to fame, besides really tasty burritos with an excellent warm queso sauce, is an incompetent, hard-of-hearing staff and a Prime Directive of “Hassle the customer—who is willing to pay you $6.50 for an oversized tortilla with some rice and beans in it—any way you can.”

About a year ago, I went in and ordered my usual. The side dish section of their menu at the time looked something like this:

• $2.99 – Chips and Guacamolé
• $1.99 – Chips and Salsa
• $0.79 – Guacamolé

My usual was to order, with my burritos, a “chips and salsa” and a “side of guacamolé”, thus saving 21¢ over ordering “chips and guacamolé” — and getting myself a free cup of salsa to boot. Not to mention the extra side of smugness that came free with this act of sticking-it-to-the-man. Occasionally, they would try to charge me for a $2.99 “chips and guacamolé”, but I would always point out how that differed from what I had ordered. They had, until this fateful day, always eventually agreed. Usually with some muttering under their breath.

One day after ordering, the store manager—a fellow with a strangely bad “anchor” tattoo and a section of ear missing—rang me up and charged me for a “chips and guacamolé”. I pointed out that I had ordered a “chips and salsa” plus a “side of guacamolé”. His response was that he was, in fact, saving me money by not charging me for the salsa. No, I don’t get what that means, either.

Let me explain; no, there is too much; let me sum up.

He and I went around in circles for several minutes; his main objective being to try to convince me that, though charging me more than the prices listed on the menu, he was saving me money. I expressed my gratitude for this, but told him that I didn’t want him to do me any “favors”; I just wanted him to charge me the prices listed on the menu. When he stated that he could not do that (and that, someday, if I owned a business, I would understand), I mentioned that, if, someday, I were to own a business, I would make it a point not to screw my loyal customers over trivial matters where the customer was clearly right. A lady who was already seated voiced her opinion: “Yeah! They always try to do that to me!”

The confrontation ended with me saying that if he wouldn’t charge me the price listed right up there on the menu, that I wouldn’t be coming back into Qdoba. He told me that that was the way it goes, so I took my food and left.

Thus began the War on Qdoba.

Many of my friends and family have joined me in this crusade. Thank you to all of you. (No thanks to Mandy.)

Now, onto the “now” part of this story.

Lately there has started to be some grumbling amongst my fellow revolters. “I bet they’ve gotten new management,” I have started to hear with greater frequency. They have made it clear that it’s up to me to call off, or not, this War — my War. And, honestly, a big burrito with lots of habañero sauce has started to sound really good.

So, the other day, I went to Qdoba.

A quick glance around revealed that I had never seen any of the people behind the counter. So, when it came my turn, I stepped up and ordered.

I ordered a burrito for me, a burrito for my wife, and two bowls of just beans and rice for my kids.

Now, in the past, they had always charged me $1 each for these beans and rice “kid’s meals”, which are not listed on the menu. Perhaps you can see where this is going.

When it came time to pay, the man-with-a-professionally-tattooed-tattoo behind the counter rang up four burritos. I asked whether they had to charge those two bowls of beans and rice as full burritos; he pointed at the menu and said that a veggie burrito was the closest thing on there to a bowl of beans and rice. I couldn’t argue with the logic (or the irony), so I did the honorable thing and pulled out my credit card and paid for a $29 meal consisting of two tortillas and a couple of pints of beans and rice.

I had gotten what I had wanted: they had charged me for what was on the menu.

Thus, friends, the War has ended. Feel free to go back to Qdoba. I probably won’t be very often… I can’t afford it.