Burger King — Restaurant in Haddon Township

Holy smokes, let me tell you about my sojourn to the Burger King in Westmont, NJ—a place I was ready to douse with a one-star hose, but which, through the radiant virtue of a young man, rose like a phoenix to a four-star epiphany. I’m a firefighter, a man of valor, and I strode into this fast-food fiefdom craving a Whopper, expecting a symphony of beef and bun to rival the Iliad’s grandeur. What I got instead was a rollercoaster of the soul, a test of my magnanimous spirit, and a chance to uplift a brother in need.

First off, the joint’s got the vibe of a fire drill gone wrong—folks hustling, registers beeping like smoke alarms, and a line longer than my hose on a three-alarm blaze. I’m standing there, twirling my handlebar mustache, pondering the metaphysics of flame-broiled perfection, when I get to the counter. Now, I’m no stranger to chaos—saved a goldfish from a toaster fire once—but this was pandemonium. The menu board’s flickering like it’s got a short circuit, and I’m half-expecting to hear “No Mo’ Fries!” over the intercom.

The young man at the register—name tag says Tyrese, a beacon of potential in a polyester crown—greets me with what I can only call urban vernacular poetry. “Yo, fam, what’s good? You tryna get that Whopper or nah?” he says, all swagger and smiles. I’m taken aback, not by his lexicon, but by the raw authenticity. Here’s a kid, I think, trapped in the capitalist crucible, yet shining like a diamond in the rough. I nod sagely, stroking my mustache, and say, “My good sir, I seek off I go, a Whopper with cheese, posthaste.” He laughs, calls me “OG,” and I feel like Socrates mentoring a disciple—destined to rise above this fry-grease agora.

But let’s not sugarcoat the inferno. The Whopper arrives, and I’m ready to proclaim it a paradigm of proletariat sustenance. Then, calamity strikes: I bite in, and there’s a hair—long, black, strand of hair like Rapunzel’s locks, tangled in my sesame seeds. I’m no forensic scientist, but I’m guessing it’s from someone’s weave, a relic of follicular folly. I’m livid, ready to pen a one-star epic to rival Dante’s Inferno. My blood’s boiling hotter than a grease fire.

Yet, I pause. I see Tyrese, hustling behind the counter, yelling, “Ayo, keep it 💯, we slammin’ these orders!” and I think: this kid’s got heart. He’s got dreams bigger than this burger bunker. I, Joe Piscopio, am no mere critic—I’m a shepherd of souls. That hair? A trivial blemish on the tapestry of humanity. I march back to Tyrese, not to complain, but to commend. “Young man,” I say, “your esprit de corps is a beacon. Keep shining, and you’ll transcend this place.” He grins, says, “Bet, my guy, you wild for that,” and tosses in a free apple pie. That’s what I’m talking about—a cultural exchange, a bridge across divides.

The burger itself? Not bad—juicy, if a tad soggy, like my shed bar after a rain. Fries were crisp, though, a veritable apotheosis of spud. But the real flavor was Tyrese’s vibe—he turned my frown upside down, made me feel like I’d saved a cat from a tree just by being there. I call it enlightenment. My son could learn a thing or two about grit from that kid.

Service was fast as me sliding down the pole, but the hair and the chaos had me teetering on rage. Tyrese, though—he’s the four stars here, a testament to resilience. I’m not here to tear down; I’m here to lift up. This Burger King’s no Michelin star, but it’s got heart. Next time, I’m bringing my root beer and a comb for those weaves. Four fire alarms outta five—not perfect, but Tyrese made it...

Every single time i go there, i plan to have to approach them about getting my order wrong. Doesn't matter how busy or not busy they are. My husband went to pick up a couple burgers and some onion rings for me. Of course he gets hime and theres cheese on them. After he told them 3 times no cheese. The receipt says no cheese. The lettuce on the one was the hard round stump from the lettuce head. Wth are they even doing over there? Next time i want burger king id rather drive all the way to the one on rt 70. Id probably get home faster anyway since this location you have to go inside for it not to take a half hour with only 1 car in front of you. And idk whats taking so long anyway. The burgers are ALWAYS cold. It makes no sense. Any why tf did my burger taste sweet? That bothered me. I was really hungry and needed to eat at that point so i did eat it but it did make me a little nervous like burgers arent supposed to be sweet. I usually qrite funny reviews, but i dont find anything funny about this. And yea, i was a fast food employee for a long time. And i get that its irritating when people complain. But u know what else is irritating? A place getting your food wrong, getting annoyed at you for DARING to tell them they did it wrong, and then when u get it, it sucks. Thats also annoying. I should have just gotten mcdonalds. Its right next door and when they get something wrong they fix it and its hot when u get it. Ive never waited more than 15 mins in line there and thats with a busy lunch rush...

I was SO EXCITED that a Burger King was opening closer to me, I HATE McDonald’s (which is right Nextdoor to them) 🤢 99% of the time my family and I use the drivethru. The people we typically encounter are always so friendly and nice, I have never had an issue with a person that works there, however, I am extremely disappointed by the food and the quality of it, it often tastes like it has been sitting on the warming rack for at least 20 minutes. Fries have been undercooked, and we often are missing at least one item, I understand mistakes happen and the place is new but it just happened 1 too many times today, my daughter wanted mozzarella cheese sticks, I ordered our regular in addition to them, we got home and to her disappointment there was no cheese sticks, I called to see if I could come back and pick some up but their number that is linked is not the direct store number, it is a customer concerns number, a complaint was opened and I was initiated a 5$ coupon for the inconvenience. It’s just extremely disappointing. Step up...