Journals

          The chaos, insanity and lack of human decency discovered on my latest lunch-break at a Washington D.C. McDonald’s leaves me genuinely frightened for the prospects of the human race in a moment of panicked crisis.   Upon my recent mid-day hunger while working for VOA (Voice of America), I decided I wanted to grab a quick Big Mac.   Not only is the Micky D’s just a short walk away it’s also cheap, and occasionally, savory.   The moment I walked in the front door I was greeted with the clamor of bustling bodies juggling for position in one of the six or seven lines.   When I made in to the register in a matter of mere seconds, an Hispanic women asked if she could help me.   “A number 1, please.”   After sliding my debit card, I was promptly given a receipt with #385 printed on the top.   I assumed I had ample time to go to the restroom and be back before my order came out.   Everything went according to plan up until I was left standing at the sink with my hands dripping wet, while the man at the hand dryer continued to hit the metal button repeatedly, taking what seemed like an exorbitant amount of time to evaporate the water from his hands.   With me standing less then five feet away, and no paper towel dispenser available, it was literally impossible for him not to know I was waiting to use the only hand dryer.   Whatever, I chalked it up to one man’s eccentricities.                    I emerged from the bathroom and took up a spot near the counter waiting for my number to be called.   During which, I remember I’m thirsty, and having paid for a meal, ask for a cup so I can get something from the drink fountain.   McDonald’s Sweet Tea is actually pretty good.   I make sure to put lots of ice in it, as it tends to be particularly warm.   I find an open table and put my drink down, along with some napkins and a salt and pepper packet to mark my territory.   After another minute or two waiting at the counter, I move horizontally across the row of lines to speak to someone I see handing out meals.   Suddenly, I feel myself being pushed in the back.   “All you have to do is say ‘scuse me!”   I turn around to the sight of an overweight black woman twice my size, pointing her finger in my face and telling me, I’m the one who should be sorry.   So, “I should be sorry because you pushed me in the back,” I replied.   “All you have to do is say ‘scuse me, she repeats.”   Whatever, I don’t need to hear lessons in manners from a woman who obviously only cares about getting her food as quickly as possible.   I move on to the counter where a woman is handing out bags of food for everyone but me.   I give her my receipt and tell her it’s been at least five minutes since I ordered.   Now, ordinarily that is not a long time, in fact it’s short, but in this circumstance, I think my order has been mistakenly taken by someone else eager to fulfill his or her appetite.     Thirty seconds later my food comes out.   I return to the table I thought I reserved to find two people sitting down enjoying their meals.   “Uh, excuse me, but did you happen to see the drink and napkins neatly placed on the table before you sat down.”   “Oh those, I though it was trash, honey.”   At this point, I know this person wasn’t intentionally trying to be rude, but my anger is reaching a boiling point.   Whatever, people are just stupid, I say to myself.   I walk back to the counter and ask if I can talk to the manager.   I calmly explain to him that someone tossed my drink I paid for and that I’d like another.   For once today, someone is reasonable and acts like a human being instead of a depraved animal feverishly trying to get what’s theirs.   I am truly sorry.   For thinking McDonald’s would be a quick and easy place to grab a bite to eat.   No use trying to eat here.   I’m done with this place.   I think I’m better off taking it back to the office, where peace of mind abounds and rudeness is sparse.    My advice: if you’re craving McDonald’s, go drive-through.