Wow, I never knew that, thank you. I just remember when I was a pimply faced teen working at the always understaffed (cheap ass boss) DQ in the days of summer, having to help a line up out side the door making everything all by myself for hours and hours on end and having to stop every half an hour to clean tables that were littered with garbage and food. The whole entirety of the line would watch me and bitch about me not serving them... but if I went back to helping customers people would come up to bitch about how there was no were to sit... I think I have PTSD from that job (hope not to offend real PTSD people, like veterans, not stupid tumblerinas).