You’ve been to a McDonalds before, pretty much everyone has.
Well I’m sure if your experiences are similar to mine, the bumbling, cash-strapped, pimple-faced teenagers who only work at this hellhole of a dining establishment because their parents tell them they need to learn about responsibility often get the simplest of orders wrong.
I go through it all the time.
I go to my nearest McDonalds because I want a double cheeseburger, and occasionally a Coke. I always tell them light ice, but apparently this concept is completely incomprehensible to them.
I want a small amount of ice. If I don’t ask for light ice, they almost always fill the cup with >50% ice. There’s barely any Coke at all, and when the ice melts, the Coke that is in the cup will be diluted and have little taste left.
I don’t ask for no ice because my drink gets warm quickly, and warm Coke tastes worse than cold diluted Coke.
Most of the time, they give me too much ice, and other times, they’ll give me barely any ice at all. I understand you hate your job, but Jesus. These people can’t get anything done at all, it’s amazing they can function in society.
And don’t even get me STARTED on Filet O’ Fish.
I get one once in a while, and always ask for extra napkins, expecting a culinary abortion to face me when my order arrives.
The tartar sauce is so unevenly spread, it all leaks out of one end like my burger is having a horrendous case of white diarrhea. Most of it sticks to the box, or spills out onto the bottom of the box. Of course when I open it I never notice, so I pick up a burger that I don’t realize is covered in tartar sauce.
It gets all over my hands, drips everywhere, and what I’m left with is tartar sauce all over my lap, my hands, and only a small bit of sauce left on one side of the sandwich.
McDonalds visits are like a fast food Ground Zero.
Why do I go there all the time, knowing I’m going to eat this horrible filth, digest it, absorb the nutrients inside, and crap out all the junk (read: all of it)?
Because no one has shit for cash, that’s why.
If we had anything in our wallets these days besides a few nickels and a drivers license, would any of us actually go to McDonalds to eat this disgusting food that’s only bought because it cost less than any other place, knowing we can afford to buy food with nutritional value, food that won’t turn us all into land-dwelling manatees?
Well I just about had it with McDonalds.
I went to my nearest McDonalds, and it was pretty close, so I walked.
Who thought I would get healthy on my way to a McDonalds?
Whatever, so I go inside and see some 4 ~ 5 people inside, it’s just some old geezer sitting near the window, enjoying the flowers and eating some fries and some white-trash family near the play area, a mother and three
redneck – looking kids running around, throwing their own shit at each other.
Well, they looked like they would, at any moment. God knows when they washed their hands last, they were covered in dirt, but I’m guessing they just took a trip to the germ-ridden, swine flu vacation hut that is the play area.
Rub your hands against those play areas, man. You’ll find so many germs, it’s just ridiculous. They let kids play on those things?
But I’m getting off-topic.
So to save any details, I walk up to the counter to see some Latino guy standing there, asking me what I wanted.
I’ll tell you want I wanted.
I told him I wanted to see the manager of this establishment IMMEDIATELY.
I spoke with confidence in my voice, but an angry expression.
He seemed a little nervous, but walked slowly toward the back of the kitchen, then going through a hallway with some pictures on the wall.
In about two minutes, the manager walked up to me.
He was bald, and somewhat short. He had a light blue suit on and a nametag that read ‘John’.
“Excuse me sir, can I help you with anything?” he asked.
“Yes, you can, thank you very much. Can you please come stand here where I’m standing?”
And that he did. I moved over a foot so he was standing in the same spot as I was.
“Thanks. Now, can you please turn to your left, bend over, look at the ground, and tell me EXACTLY what you see?”
He did as I asked, bending over, and examining each tile with effort, he could not find a single anomaly.
“I’m afraid I don’t see anything wrong with the floor.” he said, still bent over.
“Keep looking…” I said, walking back a little, ready to get momentum and preparing my foot for the severe pain it would soon cause.
“I still don’t -” he said, before I kicked him straight in the rear.
His small stature and the severe force of the kick were enough to send him crashing through the window.
The Latino running the register ran towards the phone to call 911.
The police shortly arrived outside of the building and my mom got scared
She said ’You’re movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air’ I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this cab is rare
But I thought ‘Now forget it’ – ‘Yo homes to Bel Air’
I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to the cabbie ‘Yo homes smell ya later’
I looked at my kingdom
I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air.
