18 August 2007

Double Your Drive Thru Fun

Our drive thru at McDonalds has new fancy double lanes and I'm not the only one who thinks this is a crazy maker.

I have so much fun in drive-thrus. I like to order things "To Go" and make cross-chain references.

"I'll have a Whopper McJunior, some chicken poppers, and short-large coke but in a medium glass. That's to go here."

Why not, they put us through these brilliant double rage drive thru lanes. Whoever decided this was a good idea should have the fleas from 1000 camels lodge in their armpits. Double lanes are breeding ground for stabbing people and are so entirely annoying it makes me want to pour coffee into someone's crotch.

In the summer, the kids and I go for dollar cones or sundaes. I also like their iced coffees unless I set down the coffee on the floor of my van and drive off, forgetting that it's there. I was grumbling to myself that I should have ordered a smaller coffee, one that fit in my van's shot glass-sized cup holder. I'm driving down the road, driving, driving....I get to red light and whoooosh. I have a lake in my shoes. That aroma is still emanating from the flooring.

Anyway, the other day, I drove up in one lane of the double drive thru and the guy says to me in his best Spanglish, "No habla Espanol?" which for an employee of McDonald's that can mean several things,

"Do you want fries with that"
"My pants are chafing me bad"
"Do you want the lifeguard with your 96 oz. iced coffee"
"These uniforms really suck"
"That'll be $58.49 for five freaking meals, have a nice day"

It's all interchangeable.

I smile, curse the day I decided to pass up Spanish lessons, and try to move forward, but no I can't. There are too many people squishing in over in the next lane. I'm yelling, "GO LADY, GO!", practically ready to evolve before she decides to use the LONG PEDAL ON THE RIGHT.

I get to the window and hand over the money. I pull forward to the second window and it's not my order. I apparently paid for the moron behind me that thinks that revv-ing his engine over and over will make me go faster.

Or perhaps the bad lifters in his dinosaur pickup will CLICKITY CLACK me to death.

I fork over another four bucks while the woman smiles and nods, handing me my ice cream cones. I knew the guy in the first window undercharged me, but he said it was right in his very broken English. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind immigrants from anywhere working legally in the US. You just don't see me getting a job as a Russian or Chinese Interpreter, having not learned either languages.

Customer service in the US doesn't start with a smile, it starts with both parties speaking the same language.

Of course, I could have asked him how he felt about fingers in chili, or scalding coffee poured in his crotch (to relieve his chafing), 0r perhaps inquire on how he truly felt about the double drive thru. He wouldn't have known what I was talking about but if I spoke Spanish? I would have discovered he probably hated it as much as his uniform.

~Bee says "Odio mi uniforme. Es chafes malo."

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"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe