Breakfast at McDonalds

McDonalds breakfast.

ACT 1

I don’t do hangovers anymore, my body is too old, now it just feels it, like I’ve been in a boxing ring for a few rounds.  I do have trouble sleeping over 6 or 7 hours though when I’ve had a few in me.  So I left my house earlier than usual and 10 min from work I realized I was going to be 25 min early, so I exit the freeway and see a McDonalds.  Now normally I don’t do fast food, never for breakfast, but I do admit that McDonalds has some pretty good coffee.  Since my boycott of Starbucks is on it’s 16 year anniversary and my body is in definite need of some grease and coffee I park and go inside.  I place my order, medium coffee no cream 4 sugars and 3 hashbrowns (don't judge me).  I stand back and wait.  The person after me got his order first, then the one after that got his order and in my head I’m thinking, that’s not right, right?  Considering, I could go behind the counter and really prepare my own order, it’s that easy.  So I walk up the counter and inquire about my order, according to the name tag the manager says “I don’t see your order”

“She just took it, coffee and hashbrowns?”

“No.”   And almost to himself he says “Where’s the receipt?”

“It’s right here” as I pull it out of my pocket.

“Well how am I supposed to get you your order if you have the receipt” he snatches from my hand.

“Well SHE gave it to me” but it’s futile cause he’s already turned around and tuned me out.  I’m more in shock than pissed and really, not the fight to fight today.  I get my shit , give him a dirty look and I leave. 

ACT II

It’s been a few weeks, apparently I lost the fight and my body is hurting for some coffee and grease again.  Same McDonalds is right there and I have the time, why not?  Park, go inside and wait my turn.  Same order and I make sure she has the receipt and stand back.  Now, there were some red flares being shot up.  One, it’s the same McDonalds.  Two, this is Miami we’re talking about, they aren’t known for customer service.  Three, from that dumb smile in her face she’s obviously new.  She carefully arranges the receipts and some one keeps coming to check them to see what they need to prepare for the order.  Slowly they are preparing the two orders before mine.  Some one’s orange juice, some one’s got coffee, a frappe (I don’t know if that’s how it’s spelled, don’t care, don’t judge me, trying to rant).  She keeps standing there, looking around, praying for another customer to come in cause at this point I am shooting daggers at her with my eyes.  Seriously, it’s a coffee and 3 hashbrowns! I am not asking for you to go out back and peel some potatoes.  Just turn the hell around and pour a cup of coffee and grab the hashbrowns, they’re already there warming up on under the heat lamp, it’ll take you 30 seconds.  Sigh, I walk up to the counter.

“Hey, ummn, don’t you think you could just grab my stuff since the others are working on those orders?”

“  “

“I mean, it’s just coffee that’s right behind you and some hashbrowns over there”

“  “

“It can’t be that hard right?”  I swear the more I looked at her doe eyed, deer in the head lights look the more I wanted to shake the hell out of her.  Not saying that would be ok, but I wouldn’t hit a woman, shaking, I’m on the fence about.  (Having never done either, really just talking out of my ass.)

Eventually another person came up behind her, noticed what we were talking about and 30 seconds later I was walking out the door with my order.

ACT III

I’m just a glutton for punishment aren’t I?  I mean, two acts of solid misfortune and still I place my head on the guillotine again.  Several weeks later, knocked out and not looking for a rematch I look at the time and realize today of all days, I do not need to be at work that early without some coffee and something greasy in me.  (Insert homoerotic joke here)  I park and at this point I really have surrendered to the fact that this will not go well for me, since of all the times they have not felt bad about what has happened, it’s a classic relationship where I’m being taken for granted.  I walk in and place my order and I kid you not am out in less the 2 min.  The man behind the counter took my order, saw the simplicity of it, or the emptiness in my soul, turned around and made my order magically appear.  I’m in shock as I drive to my office.  I sit down eat a hashbrown as I prepare my coffee.  Since it’s always too hot I keep a mug on my desk and I pour it out to cool it a little so I can drink it.  I’m not the type to serenade a cup of coffee, I tend to make it; buy it; pour it and drink it.  I need it inside of me as quickly as possible (that’s what she said).  Lo and behold it’s not black, it’s caramel colored, yeah, I didn’t check my coffee when I got it. I didn’t taste it in the car cause it was hot and I was still in shock.  My coffee had cream in it. Son of a bitch!