My number one pet peeve with McDonalds is that the service is slow. That almost seems like a contradiction in terms; when one hears fast food they automatically think about McDonalds. Maybe they don’t want to be considered fast food anymore.
This observation is recent. What I mean by recent, the last two or three years.
Half the time I go to McDonalds I order coffee only. I don’t understand how the person in front of me who ordered a Big Mac, a Quarter Pounder with mustard only, a double cheese with catsup and pickle only, a small fry, a large fry, a small fry with no salt, a cappuccino, fruit smoothy, a chocolate shake, two chocolate chip cookies, one oatmeal cookie, a fruit yogurt, and an apple pie gets their order before me?
Maybe I’m being punished for only ordering coffee.
Waiting in line for coffee only in like a living hell. Thoughts of guilt and remorse pour over me. ‘For what am I being punished?’ I mutter while waiting. I once saw a lady with a rosary mumbling holy prayers. She waited and waited. By the time I finished by meal she was still waiting. She fell to her knees and cried out, “Blessed virgin hear the prayer of a humble sinner! Grant me my meal. If not for me at least a Happy Meal (girl‘s) for my granddaughter.” She must have been a very bad lady in her youth.
It could be just me. McDonalds may circulate photos of me with a warning, “If you see this guy make him wait, maybe he’ll go away, but make sure you get his money first.”
There are times I get pro-active. I don’t like to do this when somebody is with me, because it embarrasses them. I look behind the counter for the person who is not doing anything. It us usually a manager and I say, “I only ordered a coffee, would you mind pouring it for me?” And I watch to make sure they don’t spit in it.
I recall one time doing that when a whole herd of people were waiting for their orders. I asked the manager to pour my coffee so I could get on my merry way. Little did I realize that everybody waiting for their orders was pulling for me. They had grown tired of waiting and felt my angst more deeply than their own. After receiving my coffee (with no expectorate) I made my way through the hungry masses. A young guy with long hair and tattoos said, “Dude, way to go,” and patted me on the back. I smiled back and said, “Dude, that’s what the sixties were all about; power to the people.”