am I went through the drive-thru at McDonald’s on Saturday morning. It was about 10:30 and I was in search of fries and a luscious bubbly addictive McDonald’s Diet Coke, Extra Large please without ice, since that leaves less room for the caffeine goodness.
I approach the drive-thru, which is surprisingly busy. No less than seven cars were in line waiting. I finally get to the squawk box and place my order ‘Medium fries and a big Diet Coke, no ice, please.’
A matronly voice replied, ‘You can’t get fries right now’ it’s our breakfast menu.’
I look down at my clock on the Monte’s stereo. It reads ’10:34′, and I remember that it is about nine minutes fast.
‘Um, what time does breakfast end?’ I ask.
‘In about six minutes.’ Mavis the McUnderpaid replied, as if the world should be well informed as to the exact minute that McDonald’s switches from the world of breakfast faire to the world of lunch and dinner dining.
‘Well, couldn’t I just order the fries now and then wait for six minutes?’ Or, as I was thinking, by the time I actually advance to the window, it will be well into the non-breakfast timeslot. I did not say this aloud, however. It is never a good idea to be sarcastic to people who might spit in your food.
There was some background noise of consternation. ‘Well, I suppose.’ She replied back crankily.
I watched the clock. I got to the window at 10:41 a.m. according to the clock on the stereo, which would have been 10:32 according to McDonald’s Greenwich Synchronized Standard clock in the drive-thru.
Mavis the McUnderpaid wouldn’t look at me. She handed my Diet Coke sans ice to a little peon who then passed it to me. I watched as a family walked out of the restaurant, passing in front of my car, happily munching on illicit French fries. Mavis gave me a scathing look and then said something to her McPeon. He bent down to the window and said, ‘Could you please pull up?’
Oh no. ‘Pulling up’ is the purgatory of the drive-thru. Mavis had passed judgment on my cheeky sense of logic and I had been found impudent and out of bounds. I was to be punished. I pulled up and slurped my Diet Coke. At least I had caffeine to abate my withdrawal symptoms.
Finally, McPeon came out with my fries. I drove off. They were cold. The time on my non-standard non-synchronized stereo clock was 10:51 a.m.
That will teach me to ever question Mavis the McDominatrix again. I should realize that she must certainly be working at McDonald’s for some reason and it can’t be the pay nor the stylish uniforms, therefore it can only be to install some fast food justice over those of us who choose to question the Arch Golden Rules’ or is it the Golden Arches Rule, I’m not certain.
I suppose I got off lucky. I could have been flogged with a Cat O’Nine Straw Wrappers, or maybe pelted with reconstituted minced onions. That will teach me to question the Great Lord Ronald ever again. That’s what the Hamburgler did and you never hear about him anymore. I think he sleeps with the McFishes.
