Tuesday, April 11, 2006

McLunch

Nothing good comes of going through a McDonald's Drive Thru. Yet I still continue to go through them. The Drive Thru is, every single time I go, the world's biggest collection of idiots, bar none. Including Congress. The cast of characters is ridiculous.

There is me, KNOWING that something is going to go wrong, and still steering my car toward the little talking box. Enduring untold frustration so I can stuff my body with pollutants and hormones and then wonder why an embryo refuses to take up residence.

There is the person in front of me, who invariably has to lean his or her head out of the window to study the menu, despite the fact that the menu has not changed in thirty years. McDonald's may test new items here and there, but really: does anyone ever order them? No. I am truly perplexed at how someone can leave their office, get into the car, drive to the restaurant and STILL not be aware that what they want for lunch is a Big Mac. This sandwich has been offered longer than the primary demographic of McDonald's has been eating solid foods. What gives? What is the hemming and hawing about? The menu. Has! Not! Changed!

Then there is the person taking the order. The most hearing impaired person is systematically moved throughout the McDonald's chain of command until they are in charge of the Drive Thru. Suddenly, "Cheeseburger" sounds like "Fish Filet". "More Ketchup" sounds like "Extra Napkins". And if they do happen to get your order right on the talking box display, be assured that they will find a way to mess it up before you drive away.

I especially love how a restaurant which is famous for making hamburgers, which indeed has a tally of the number of hamburgers sold as part of its marquee, can run out of said hamburgers. How can a hamburger not ALWAYS be ready? Who's job is it to approve slapping down more five cent patties on the grill? Why does this person not realize that if 99% of your menu consists of items needing patties or coordinating with patties, that patties need to always be cooked?

I am perplexed.

I forgot one additional person. The one who pulls out of line, frustrated, and stomps into the store for faster service. I particularly enjoy waving at that person as I drive away, mouth stuffed with french fries, as they try to navigate Cindy Ann's birthday party group and the rest of the people who are convinced that the counter is faster than the drive through. Granted, you will get the correct order more often at the counter, but you will also smell like grease for the rest of the day. I'll take my chances in the car.

No, nothing good comes from going through the McDonald's drive thru. Which of course, is exactly why in a half hour, I will probably be wheeling my car in that direction again. Maybe today I'll get a salad. Maybe today I'll do some hemming and hawing. Maybe today, I'll make everyone wait while I search for correct change.

Or maybe I'll just hand them my credit card, ask for my hamburger and fries... and pretend I didn't realize I was going to open my bag and find a McRib and a soggy apple pie.

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