Taco Bell — Restaurant in Billings

Save yourself a nightmare and don't go to this location. If you still want to, do not walk into the store. Use the drive-through only. Staff doesn't care about any customers that walk in. I ordered on the app, and 5-10 min later walked into the restaurant. I waited at the designated pick up area for 15 min, then stepped to the front counter. 5 minutes later an employee finally asked if they could help me. I replied that I had placed an application order and wanted to make sure they had it. The employee printed the receipt and I verified the order was indeed placed correctly. I went back to waiting for another 10 min. Another employee looked at me, said my name, and said my order was coming up. I waited another 10 min, then asked how long it was going to be. The employee asked the other staff members about a timeframe, at which point someone calls out "I never knew he was here". I lost my patience at this point as I was lied to about my order "coming up". There was no care, courtesy, or concern for the dozen or so customers that were waiting for food (throughout this ordeal, a group of three young girls walked into the restaurant, stood at the front counter for 10 minutes without ever being acknowledged, then left - they were smarter than I was). At this point, 40 minutes after walking into the restaurant with no food, I just asked for them to cancel my order and give me a refund since nothing was even started yet. At this point, the staff who called out "I never knew he was here" made it seem like an whole ordeal to have to do a refund, because it has to be cash, and he was telling another employee who had no experience doing this that it was about time he learned. At this point I told them not to bother...

I pulled into the Taco Bell drive-thru at 11:47 PM, emotionally unstable, spiritually hollow, and ravenous in the way only someone who skipped both lunch and dignity can be. I wasn’t just ordering food—I was looking for answers. And possibly a Cheesy Gordita Crunch.

The voice on the speaker crackled with the intensity of a Netflix true crime narrator. “Welcome to Taco Bell, go ahead when you’re ready.” Ready? I was born for this moment.

I unleashed an order so chaotic it could’ve summoned a food demon: • 1 Doritos Locos Taco (Supreme, obviously) • 1 Chicken Quesadilla • 2 Spicy Potato Soft Tacos • 1 Baja Blast that I absolutely did not need but desperately required • And yes, I said yes to 15 mild sauces like it was a hostage negotiation

I rolled up to the window. The employee didn’t blink. This was a pro. A sage in a headset. He handed me a bag that smelled like hope. I nearly drove off with it buckled into the passenger seat.

At home, I sat in silence, unwrapping each item like sacred artifacts. The quesadilla was aggressively cheesy—honestly, it fought back. The Doritos Locos Taco? A reckless fusion of junk-food alchemy. The shell shattered like my expectations of self-control. It was perfect. The Spicy Potato Soft Tacos? Pillows of carb-loaded redemption.

Was the lettuce a little limp? Yes. Did the food hit me like a freight train 45 minutes later? Also yes. But in that glorious window between first bite and gastrointestinal roulette, I experienced peace. Bliss. The kind of inner clarity monks climb mountains for.

Final thoughts: Taco Bell didn’t just feed me. It healed me. Then betrayed me. Then comforted me again with leftover cold...

With a starving kid in the car, we roll up to the drive thru. The speaker gets visibly frustrated that we’re taking a bit (I don’t eat a lot of taco bell, sue me). She shows us our order and asks if it’s correct, and it is on paper! We then pull up, and she says to someone “it exploded” (my soda) and proceeds to hand it to my mom, to me. I put the straw in and it spills cherry coke in my lap. My mom takes it and there’s too much liquid and top isn’t on it right. The speaker gives us a “sorry” and hands us more napkins. Easy mistake. Then we pull away. I open the bag, and the burritos aren’t marked (they probably aren’t normally, but it was a little frustrating). My younger sibling (the hungry kid) gets his bean and cheese burrito, and it exploded. It was very liquidy and poorly rolled, and spilled into his car seat (he’s a very clean and meticulous eater) which he sweetly cleaned up. Before this, my mom and I figure out which is which, and I bite in. It has tomatoes and chicken. I asked for no tomatoes specifically, and ordered a veggie burrito. So I’m like “maybe this is my moms!” And we swap. The first one was mine, but made the exact same way. I continue to eat her Chipotle chicken ranch burrito. Not what I wanted, but it’s okay. Then my little brothers burrito explodes, and my mom hands her burrito to him. It’s spicy. They made the exact same burrito for both my mom and I, and messed up my 7 year old starving brother’s burrito, while also being frustrated at us and being rude (she slammed her door thing as we left, and was impatient the whole time, and I recognize the fast food industry is very...