Chipotle Dreams

Peter Moran
Sep 7, 2018 · 4 min read

I recently made a significant life decision. After the new year came and I reflected on who I am and what I stand for, I created a few resolutions or goals for 2018. In the spirit of discipline, consistency and health, I have decided to eat Chipotle for 100 straight work days, and after six days I have a clear vision of how I would like it to go.

The first ten or so days I create a buzz. I tweet at Chipotle every single day with proof of my burrito and perhaps an endearing little joke to go with it. Chipotle responds to me, and people start to take notice. Then, we get into the thick of things. The grind. The 2:30 in the afternoon, shoveling down the last bite of dry barbacoa on a crusty, leftover tortilla. Grabbing a second cup of coffee to combat the excessive tiredness I’m experiencing from my lunchtime splurge. Then, we get into the thicc of things. The lingering glance passing by a mirror, belly slipping just over the waistband of my now undersized sweatpants. The dismay as I raise my arms to grab a paper towel off the top shelf and my shirt raises just a tad too much revealing significantly too much of my belly that has become significantly too large. The red-hot shame as I visit my tailor for the second time in as many months and he tells me there’s nothing more he can do to help me. I’m now more than halfway through the hundred-day challenge and my jawline is starting to sag like an overfilled Hefty bag, so I grow a beard to cover the embarrassment. The beard gives me hope, at first, but then starts to look unprofessional. My boss glares at the horrific mess on my chin and tells me to pack my bags. Mortified, I cry over a handful of deliciously salty chips with just a hint of lime and the freshest guacamole. My appreciation turns to hatred, however, as a I consider the dark turn my life has taken since dedicating it to a burrito shop. The unrequited love tale has turned me cold and heartless, and I swear I’ll never set foot in that establishment ever again. A mess, I stumble into a nearby Qdoba and pour my heart out to a kindly janitor at the rival restaurant. Kindly, he tells me he thinks he might be able to help. “You see,” he explains gently, “I’m actually the owner of Qdoba.” He nods to the cameras. “We’ve been shooting an episode of ‘Undercover Boss’, hence the rags. You’ve shown a lot of dedication and enthusiasm for not only Mexican food, but branding. We love your story and we’d love to have you on board as our newest spokesperson, not dissimilar to what’s-his-face who switched from Sprint to Verizon.” I happily agree and go on to become a greater folk hero among commercials than the Dos Equis guy, and grow that portfolio into a lifetime of success in film. Chipotle has another disaster with meat poisoning and becomes extinct.

Anyways, that’s my vision. I’m not saying it’s definitely going to happen, but if you’re not doing it for the best-case scenario, then why do anything?

Hot Takes:

Something I like: Societal shame. As you look back through history and the terrible things that have occurred, it’s hard to make a case for humans being generally decent. We’re not even that far removed from land wars, relative to the overall length of humanity’s existence, which is a perfect example of the selfish nature of humans, simply wanting whatever we can have. The only thing that’s stopping us is whoever’s in our way. While it used to be the threat of other stronger beings disallowing us that dissuaded people from doing things they shouldn’t, we now have societal shame, and it protects us from what the law can’t, from severely unacceptable to slightly uncomfortable. Want to make aggressively bigoted posts on Facebook? You may, but societal shame might have something to say. Want to practice terrible growth-stifling parenting techniques? Go ahead, just watch out for societal shame. Want to wear blue jeans and a jean jacket? Guess what? Societal shame doesn’t want you to. You should, though. Thesis: there’s nothing separating humans from acting just as savagely as other species except societal shame.

Another thing: Speaking of shame, caffeine drinkers — myself included — should be judged a lot more harshly. Caffeine is a drug and most of us are addicted to it. “No,” you argue, “I’m not addicted. I just drink one cup a day.” So you do something every single day? Cool. Why do you do it? “It helps me wake up, ya know? I need it to start my day.” Okay, cool. So you do it every day because you need it. Because you can’t start your day without it. So, essentially, you can’t function without the substance? Right. Not an addictive drug. Look, I like coffee as much as the rest of you, probably more if it’s a black cup of cold brew. But let’s cut the fakery and accept that we’re addicts. Coffee’s just a popular drug that got a better PR team than the other drugs. And I’m okay with it.