Infiltrating the Texas Roadhouse Secret Society

Posted: February 1, 2010 in I'm an asshole, spam spam eggs and spam, wtf

So much for getting to wear my Tom Cruise ‘Mission Impossible’ harness.

Let me explain.

But you’ll have to keep it a secret.

This is on the down low.

That’s what she said.

I opened my inbox the other day to see THIS waiting for me:


From: Texas Roadhouse – METHUEN, MA



* blink


Top secret?!

I mean, Texas Roadhouse, sure…but…

I’ve never gotten any email with the subject of ‘Top Secret’ in it before.

Could this be the adventure I’d been waiting for all my life?!

My hands sweaty with anticipation, I opened the email.

On a side note, I’m not sure why my hands were sweaty since this was email and technically all I had to do was click the mouse with my index finger and now I’m wondering if I maybe have some medical condition that has ‘sweaty hands’ as a symptom so maybe I should Google it and – yep – sonofabitch I apparently have secondary palmar hyperhidrosis which is caused by frostbite (the fuck?) which kind of makes sense because it’s like MAYBE 67 degrees in here at work.

So realizing that I’m probably dying of some frostbite-related illness, I decided to open the email and take on this assignment (I’m guessing it’s an assignment) because, hey, live every day like it’s your last right?

And with secondary palmar hyperhidrosis you never know when that day will come.

So I open it to see this:

* balloon deflates

Well, thanks a lot Texas Roadhouse.

I suppose I need to cancel my order for this trenchcoat and fake moustache.

Nah, I can probably find another use for it.

But I have a good mind to come down there and give you all a severe case of secondary palmar hyperhidrosis just for getting my hopes up.

Instead, though, I sent them BACK this email:


To: Texas Roadhouse – METHUEN, MA


Dear Texas Roadhouse,


That’s the ‘Top Secret’ information? That you’re open early on Martin Luther King Day?

What the Hell?

I’m all thinking ‘HOLY CRAP I have some super secret assignment where I have to sneak up on Longhorn Steakhouse and get their secret recipe for their dry rub’ or some shit and then I open this – in the dark of the bathroom with my son’s Night Vision Goggles mind you just in case this has something to do with hunting Al Qaeda or finding out what the fuck Ruben Studdard has been up to these days – it and it’s just telling that you people are showing up to work 4 hours early? The fuck?

Why is this ‘Top Secret?’ I’m assuming that your employees need to know, too.

I’m not sure how that classifies as ‘top secret’ when the pregnant 17 year old you have hostessing can’t obviously even keep her pants on or successfully tell her boyfriend when to pull out, never mind trying to keep THIS secret.

Shit’s gonna get out. the way. I live in New Hampshire – which you’d know if you’d done ANY homework before sending out such critical time-sensitive material as this…and we don’t have Martin Luther King Day off. This is what happens when you live in a state with three black people.

So earliest you’d see me there is, like, 6 pm or so.

Let me know if that works for you and if there’s some kind of secret passphrase I need to learn to get in like, ‘the squirrel eats nuts at midnight’ because I’ll need some time to memorize it.

Rod (a.k.a., ‘Agent 69’ – see what I did there?)


And then I sent it.

I have not heard back.

Probably because they’re busy taking me off their mailing list.

I wonder if Longhorn Steakhouse has one.

Moog out.



No shit, I JUST got this email in:


See that?

About time they made amends to me. I mean, I don’t particularly WANT to eat two appetizers but if they’re going to lead me on about crazy secret spy shit and then pull the rug out from under me there’s NO WAY I’m not taking this deal.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, I’m totally having two of those giant fried onions and one of them bastards is going to be on the house, bitch.


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