Tim saw Donald walk into the diner and sit at a table near the window. After a while of letting him read the menu, he approached the man.

"Hello, sir," he said with a smile. "May I take your order?"

Donald looked up from his menu and returned the smile.

"I'm not sure. I know I want a sandwich, but I can't decide what kind. Just bring any kind of sandwich. I'm sure I'll like it."

"Yes, sir."

Tim left the table and went into the kitchen.

The waiter soon returned with grilled cheese cut in two halves.

Donald peeled back the top half of the sandwich and looked between the bread.

"Waiter," he called out. "I'd like to have meat in the sandwich."

"I'm sorry, sir. What kind of meat?"

"I can't decide."

"Okay, sir. I'll be right back."

Tim went back to the kitchen.

"Here you are, sir," Tim said as he set the plate down. "A bacon and cheese sandwich."

"Thank you," replied Donald. Before the waiter could leave, he called him back. "Hang on a minute. What kind of bacon?"

"That is pork, sir."

"Oh. Do you have turkey bacon?"

"No. We do not."

"Oh. I'd rather have another meat."

"Right away, sir," replied Tim.

Soon, Tim came back with a turkey sandwich.

Donald picked up the food and noted the cool bread that covered the lettuce, tomatoes, and meat.

"Waiter? I'd rather have a hot sandwich."

By now, the waiter was beginning to lose his patience. Still, he took the sandwich and brought it back to the kitchen. He returned with the same sandwich, fresh out of the oven.

"Waiter, I can't eat this. Who on Earth cooks turkey sandwiches?"

Tim sighed and asked: "Sir, what kind of sandwich would you like?"

"Hmmm," Donald answered with a thoughtful look at the ceiling. "I just don't know. Bring something else. I should like it."

Tim bit his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret.

"Would you like a suggestion?" He said with a smile that showed gritted teeth.


"How about a grilled chicken sandwich?"

"Well... okay."

With a frustrated sigh, Tim returned to the kitchen.

When the waiter exited the kitchen, he was carrying a grilled chicken sandwich on a plate. As he walked past the counter, he saw Donald standing up and pushing his chair in.

"Sir?" he called out, "don't you want the sandwich you ordered?"

Donald looked at him.

"I'd like to, but I have to get back to work. My lunch break is over."

That said, Donald left the diner.

The moral of the story is, the universe is like a waiter who is willing to give us exactly what we ask for. When we send mixed or incomplete messages, we get literal results that are oftentimes disguised as what we expect. So whether you're asking for the perfect spouse, car, or home, be specific about what you want!