I Shake my Cane at You

I have an edict, and it goes out to every McDonald’s manager on earth.

Henceforth, five times a week, you are to gather your employees and tell them to STOP INTERRUPTING PEOPLE WHILE THEY ORDER. Of course, you’ll have to tell them seven times, because they’ll interrupt.

“I’ll have two McMuffins, one hash brown…”

“You’ll have two Egg McMuffins?”

“I’ll have two McMuffins, one hash brown…”

“Three Egg McMuffins and eight hash browns?”

“I’ll have two McMuffins, one hash brown…”

“What do you want to drink?”

“I’ll have two McMuffins, one hash brown…”

“Nineteen hash browns and one McGriddle?”

Thanks to the amazing people who man the drive-thru, I have now become the Old Guy Everyone Dreads Waiting On. I ask them when they’re ready to listen. I tell them to quit interrupting. I say, “I already told you that.” Next, I’ll be carrying one of those ridiculous change purses that you squeeze to open, and I’ll pay them in pennies while the people behind me lose their minds, and I’ll demand to know why the manager won’t force the cashiers to honor coupons from other restaurants.

At least I’m not a woman. They’re the worst. “What kind of pesticide do you use on the lettuce?” “Were the tomatoes picked by union workers?” “I need to write a check for my McNuggets.” “Which is better for me? Three salads or one Big Mac?” “Please go find me a nutritional information sheet so I can memorize it to protect my yammering larvae.” “I need you to put the onions in a separate bag, make sure the lettuce is above the tomatoes, see that the amount of pickles is a prime number, and if it’s not too much trouble, I want to come inside and watch so I can make sure you don’t apply too much mustard. And I want to open my sandwich and inspect it before I leave the window.”

Here’s how to run the cash register at McDonald’s. I’ve never done it, but I think I have it figured out. When the customer orders something, you push the button with that item’s picture on it. Then when they order something else, you push that item’s button. When they’re FINISHED, you tell them the total, and you wait for them to look at the video list a foot and a half from the car window, so they can make sure you got it right. And you don’t argue with them about what they ordered. If you think about it, this is a subject they know more about than you do.

If you can’t do this, keep voting for Democrats, because you are eventually going to be considered absolutely unemployable, even with affirmative action, and even if you work for the government. But I repeat myself.

Here’s another tip. When a customer says “thank you,” it’s not okay to snub him just because you’re furious that you ended up flipping burgers for a living. If you think about it long enough, and you won’t, you may eventually realize your status in life is not entirely the customer’s fault. It’s completely possible that you, yourself, may deserve some of the blame. Sounds crazy, but it’s true.

There’s a kid who works the register at the nearest breakfast joint, and he is so professional, I feel like he shows me up as a customer. This kid is going to end up owning the whole strip mall. He looks me in the eye and says, “Thank you for your business, sir. Come back soon.” At this point I usually drop my squeeze change purse and my handful of expired Arby’s coupons, and I shuffle out feeling completely outclassed. Why can’t McDonald’s find people like that? Actually, they did have one. The middle-aged German lady who always smiled and called me sir and ordered me to have a nice day whether I felt like it or not. She’s gone. She probably saved her money and bought a private island. Now I have to deal with her successor, Unpredictable Hypersensitive Interruption Girl.

The breakfast kid is black. I hope the entitlement pimps don’t get ahold of him and corrupt him before he becomes a self-made millionaire and starts sponsoring conservative candidates.

I think I’ll pull my white socks up and go find some kids to glare at.