Saturday, May 5, 2012

Sitting At The Drive-Thru

I was sitting in my car at the McDonald's drive-thru this morning, having – this should come as no surprise – chosen the wrong dang line; it was taking FOREVER.  Anyway, the dude in the car in front of me finally got to the speaker and placed his order.  (I had my window down already, so I was privy to the entire forthcoming exchange.)  I should explain that the young man was Mexican.  I understand this is the "politically correct" terminology nowadays; individuals prefer to be referred to from their country of origin versus Hispanic or Latino, but I digress. 

Anyway, he proceeded to order something that neither I, nor the young lady on the other side of magic ordering box, could understand.  She – very sweetly – asked him to repeat his order.  He did.  Ah, he wanted a Big Mac meal and something else... indiscernible.  It was 10:30a.m.; the Mickey D's employee patiently explained they serve breakfast until 11:00a.m., whereupon the young man promptly ordered two double cheeseburgers. (Yeh, that should do it.)  I should also explain that he had a VERY strong accent; it was difficult for ME to understand what he was saying, let alone the poor girl inside.  Again, she explained they were serving breakfast, to which he replied, “Okay, what do you have?” 

Are you freakin’ kidding me?  Most three-year olds can recite the McDonald’s breakfast menu.  (Can I get an amen?)  Okay, by then I didn’t know whether to laugh…or cry; the situation was both laughable and a little frustrating… if not downright sad.  I mean, I was feeling sorry for…well…pretty much everyone involved; i.e., the Mickey D’s employee steadfastly trying to do her job, the hungry-guy who didn’t know enough English to make himself understood, and – last but not least – the poor schmuck behind him who just wanted to order a medium caramel frappe, so she could get on with her miserable, humdrum, dreary little life.  Needless to say, the young man eventually gave up and went about his business.   

I’m sure there is a “message” in here somewhere; I’m just not sure what it is.