I'm A Burger King kind of guy anyway

So this happened a couple of days ago, but that doesn't make it any less true:

On Friday, I was mugged in the parking lot of a Brooklyn Wendy's. . The perpetrator stole a bag containing:
one (1) Wendy's Jr. Cheeseburger
one (1) Value Size French Fries
some (3-7) napkins

The worst part is that the cheeseburger and fries weren't even for me, they were for my long-suffering Director (she insists on the capital letter), Jess. If it was my cheeseburger that was stolen, I would have slowly walked home while that melancholy Charlie Brown theme song played. But since this was someone else's cheeseburger that I was supposed to be getting for them, I had no choice but to go back and order another from Wendy's.

(If you gave someone $10 and told them to buy you a cheeseburger and that person showed up empty-handed a full half hour later and told you that he was robbed for his fast food order, would you believe him? I thought so.)

I also got into a fight with a woman in line who punched her toddler in the face with a closed fist. But that incident does not fulfill the criteria of a Neighbor Steve story, which are:
A) Me getting hurt
B) Me being mortified/embarrassed
C) Me being weird
D) Michael Baltus saying something extraordinarily stupid and then making me blog it.
E) Drunk men on the subway
OR
F) Burritos

So let's just say I don't like it when people hit their children very hard and some people don't like it when I don't like it when they hit their children very hard.