Open letter to Ronald McDonald
Dear Ronald:
Man, don’t ever go to your restaurant on 38th Street in Indianapolis, the shit you would see there would turn your lustrous hair from red to grey.
Case in point, my experience there yesterday. My Child Bride and I go to church on Sunday, usually to the 9 AM sermon. She has the beauty of Helen of Troy, but alas, it takes her roughly the time the Trojan War lasted to get ready. Thus, we made it to the McD’s with little time to spare before church, but I needed some coffee in a bad way. So I pull up and order our Sunday best, a Sausage McMuffin with Egg Meal with a large coffee, 3 creams, 3 sugars, and a Mocha Frappe with no whipped cream. (Now, the first bit is mine, the second hers. I don’t actually like saying Mocha Frappe, because I think it makes you gay faster that way than even grazing a dog’s ding dong, but I digress.)
So, I announce with gusto my order, and wait for it appear on that screen you helpfully provide. And wait. And wait. And wait. Finally a lady comes back and asks for my order. Aw, what the hell, so I reiterate it. She informs me the monetary penance for breaking my fast, and following her instructions I slowly proceed to window #1, where cashier lady helpfully takes my money and gives me my receipt. I quickly peruse for accuracy, confirm it, and proceed to window 2 to get my culinary reward.
Now I am a little worried because I have 10 mins to make it to Zionsville (11 miles away) and I’m not much on speeding. But, for a SM w/ Egg, I’d run over baby gazelles etc. I pull up to Window #2, and we start having a problem. First, I note that the Mocha has whipped cream. I let the lady know that the order is wrong, and recognize in her response that we have an habla problem. I mime NO WHIPPED CREAM, and the lady takes it back, and hands me my sandwich. Not the meal, just the sandwich. I say no, this should have the coffee and hash-brown. Again we have an habla problem, and alas, I do not speak Spanish. In the back ground, an older woman fights gamely with the computer screen, while ignoring the McSandwich summit occurring between the representatives of central America and Wherethehellismysandwichistan.
Eventually, the lady takes my receipt, wherefore apparently to read it better, since master of interpretive dance I am not. She points her finger to get me to move ahead, and wait there. Now, Child Bride at this point is getting anxious, as am I, because our weekly date with Jesus is now 7 minutes away. Looking lovely, she’s perturbed, so I wait about 4 minutes and then approach the restaurant to see what the hold up is. A manager meets me at the door with “my order.” Only, instead of my long awaited coffee (3 creams, 3 sugars) I get the Mocha Frappa (sans white stuff) and another frozen drink whose identity I can’t discover, which has whipped cream on it. I once again helpfully explain to the lady my order, and let her know I now have the Frappe, and the sandwich. I just want a hash-brown, and a coffee, 3 creams, 3 sugars.
I bring the frozen drink to Caro, who immediately notes that she has no straw. So, I go inside, hereby defeating the original purpose of the drive thru. I get the straw, I return outside. I wait 2 mins and Manager comes out again, bearing a coffee, and 2 bags of food. Now, I know at this point we have a problem, unless for some inexplicable reason it takes 2 bags to carry 1 hash-brown. But Jesus is waiting, so I take what is offered, thank her, and move off.
Bag 1 contents: 3 hash-browns.
Bag 2 contents: 2 creamers and……7 bags of tea. Why? I have no idea. Perhaps she though that the young lady and I were all dressed up to reenact the Boston Tea Party? Perhaps she thought this was a prelude to dressing like an Indian, and dumping the contents of our McDonalds Bag into Eagle Creek? Perhaps she just looked at me and the cool and erudite Jean Luc Picard leaped to mind? Tea, Earl Grey, hot.
My coffee? Nary a cream or sugar to be found therein.
I say unto you Ronald, do not proceed with your large red shoes and nasal protuberance into the McDonalds on 38th street. The Burger King across the street will get you to the church on time.
Your Pal,
TSO
Category: Politics
Is that a picture of Ronald choking his chicken, while attempting to behead it?
TSO……. your problem was this. Rather than fight the time constraints, you should have just let your Child Bride head along to church while you ate a leisurely meal inside. Works for me 🙂
We would have made it to church on time if we didn’t have to wait 20 minutes in the drive thru…so the lateness is not my fault!
Very true dearest.
TSO,
Time to learn some Espanol my friend.
Bad timing on your part. You didn’t know it was right after their ‘crack’ break.
Anon,
OH HELL NO! Time for these illiterate illegal aliens to learn English. Whose country is this anyway?
I predict that within 5 years, assuming all fast food isn’t outlawed, you will drive up to a large board with nothing put pictures of food and punch in what you want…where it will still be fucking wrong when you pick it up a the window, but at least you won’t have to actually interact with a human being.
I can only hope that Anon was being sarcastic. Totally agree, Woodman, it’s our country, and McDonald’s(or any commercial enterprise) should make sure the folks who interact with the paying customer habla English.
I forgot to add a part. Please allow me to fill in and complete:
Time for these illiterate illegal alien illegtitimate offspring of a crack whore . . . .
Thank you.
I feel MUCH better now.
Hence, I no habla espanol,either- I don’t go to the drive thru on Kildare and Ten-ten any-freaking more. My orders were always screwed up…
But gee TSO, I love when you tell colorful stories that include such descriptions of child brides and such! 🙂
TSO,
For future reference,
“Dame una galleta de salchicha con huevo, un café con tres cremas y tres azúcares, y una papa rallada frita, y no importa crema batida. Por favor, prisa, llego tarde a mi trabajo en Inmigración y Aduanas.”
(Give me a sausage biscuit with egg, a coffee with three creams, and three sugars, and a hashbrown, and no damn whipped cream. Please hurry, I am late for my job at Immigration and Customs Enforcement.)
–Chuck
I told my son when he graduated from High School – in Indianapolis – to remember his Spanish so he could get a job managing a fast food restuarant. Just in case the Army thing didn’t work out. He can now get by in Arabic & Chinese. Yeah – he can work in Indy & San Francisco!
Good grief, I live in SoCal and don’t have that kind of trouble even at the small Mexican fast food restaurants.
Caroline,
I was just syaing that, in future, TSO can just have you drop him by the Micky D’s for breakfast, and you can head over to church. Just remember to pick him up on your way back. 🙂
NOOOOOO!!!!!! NOT GRIMACE!!!!!! WHY DID HE HAVE TO KILL GRIMACE?!?!?!?!?! HE NEVER DID ANY HARM TO ANYONE!!!!!
YatYas–the McD’s on Harbor and Edinger will confound you. I once ordered a BOTTLED water there. I got my order, no bottled water. Asked for it in English. Nada. Asked for it in Spanish, was motioned forward, where I waited 10 minutes for it. Then went inside where I was offered a “courtesy cup” (read: free) cup of water. I asked for my money back for the bottle of water. I got a dollar–less than the price, and less than the price plus tax. Mind you, this was from the MANAGER.
And people wonder why I left California with a shit-eating grin on my face almost four years ago now. “Illegal” around here means a French-Canadian who sits in a snowbank in front of the Home Depot and offers to shovel off your roof.
It’s a Hispanic conspiracy in revenge for the Arizona thing. I had a horrible experience at my favorite local Mexican restaurant Saturday night. It was so bad I actually walked out, leaving a tasty margarita behind.
Here is the rave review of the restaurant that I left on Google after I got back home as my own revenge:
http://tinyurl.com/3yr7x9p
Though my story is not as amusing as TSO’s…which is utterly hilarious…
I don’t give a damn where I have been in Mickey dipshitz, I have had some sort of problem. Solved it for all eternity, I don’t go on the property, anywhere, any of them. I got along without McDonalds when there were none, and I am getting along fine now.
As for Spanish? I can communicate quite well in Marina Hemingway, In Isla Mujeres, In Cozumel. In the US of A? I speak nothing but English, (the graduated high school, non-ghetto sort of English). I refuse to speak Spanish for myself or for them, in MY country.
Good story though, TSO.
Caroline got any older lady friends that would like to meet an asshole of an ol’ dude? I am open to meetings but they must be the sort that shaves their armpits.
Nuf Sed
Debra, not that I’ll go there ever as I don’t get to Fla. often, I clicked your review as helpful. Heh.
I live in Tx, so I’ve got more stories of a similar nature than you can shake a stick at. It’s quite sad. Welcome to obamanation.
TSO…If it would make you feel any better…about 35 years ago,as a young,innocent,Marine,me and some buddies went to a McDonalds in Havelock,NC outside of MCAS Cherry Point and wnt through the drive thru (no cammies off base)got our food and parked in the parking lot to eat…to pass the time we decided to feed the seagulls some alka seltzer and watch them explode,needless to say it pissed off the 18 year old manager who threatened to call the police and then promptly banned us for life from coming to his fine establishment…Im telling you this to see if you think it might be ok for me to go back there now? will it be safe? I only ask because I am much to pretty for prison!
Well, thank you, Sponge, for your vote of confidence in my restaurant review. 🙂
I lived in San Antonio many, many years ago – my first permanent duty station out of AIT being Ft. Sam Houston. Believe it or not, I had never eaten in a Mexican restaurant prior to being stationed there (this was several decades ago, before all the, uh, immigration). I LOVED the Mexican restaurants in San Antonio so much. To me it seemed even the tiniest little hole in the wall Mexican joint had the best ever Mexican food. I never had any bad experiences in Mexican restaurants back then. I’ve had several now in different Mexican places in the recent past. They always involved male Mexican waiters. It seems we often don’t get along.
i feel for you man, mc donalds is always fucking up something