I went through McDonalds to get a coffee yesterday, and today I believe I’ve finally settled down enough to tell my story. I feel compelled to share my experience so that others no longer hide their pain in the darkened corners of their soul, waiting for someone to come along and show them that time will mend their wound. Preferably that someone is Juan Valdez. Break the chains, my friends! Tell the world of your pain so that we may all heal together, as one, united by crappy service. Here goes - It was foggy morning, I rushed out the door at roughly 6am. Half-awake after abusing my snooze button, per usual…probably not even fit to drive. I check my eye makeup in the rearview mirror - that’s actually what it is there for - to make sure that I didn’t rub it all off after I fell asleep while straightening my hair, and then proceeded to rub my eyes like I was just waking up, forgetting that I had been up for like an hour…and that I was straightening my hair. I try to remember if I had unplugged my straightening iron, and then I contemplate the importance of getting coffee sooner vs. ensuring that my home doesn’t burn down. Yep. I had to contemplate that conundrum. I sacrifice precious coffee-less moments to run back in, chastising my straightening iron. I kid you not, I think I uttered “don’t let this happen again” to an inanimate object. I digress. I run back outside and take a moment to breathe in the beauty of the morning landscape. Just kidding. I momentarily fell asleep while standing on the porch. Finally I get back in my car, crank up the music and start singing and dancing along so as to try and wake myself up a bit more. It was some random song that I didn’t know the words to, but I sang along anyway. Two miles down the road I realize that I never actually turned on any music, and that I was mumbling and humming the theme song to 24. Then I remembered that 24 didn’t have a theme song and that I’m just randomly singing “Jack’s gonna get ya…I need a hacksaw… bum bum bum, terrorists…”…Basically, I’m not ok… Like a lost man in the dessert searching for water, I see the beaming lights of the McDonalds sign in the distance. I have no interest in their food, but my heart longs for the coffee that I know is brewing. My lack of caffeine is now evolving into anger, soon I will be overwhelmed by an immense sadness. All of the avid coffee drinkers reading this know the various stages of caffeine deficiency, and they can surely relate. In my anger, I pass what was either a very small woman in her 90’s, or a toddler with greyish blue hair. The pressure that she put on her gas pedal made her car the Ford version of a sloth. I turn in to the McDonalds. Woman: “Welcome to McDonalds, how may I help you?” It started off well. She had just the right level of happiness in her voice, it conveyed hope. Me: “Coffee. I need coffee.” Woman: “Ok, would you like to try a free small one?” Me: “No. No I would not. I would like a large coffee with 8 sugars and 6 creams.” Before you judge me, each “sugar” is less than ½ tsp. I felt your judgment. Woman: “4 creams and 2 sugars?” IS THAT EVEN CLOSE? Me: “8 sugars and 6 creams.” Woman: “6 sugars and 4 creams?” Why.... Me: “EIGHT sugars, and SIX creams. E as in Egg, I as in Island….” Woman: “OH! 8 sugars and 4 creams. Pull around to the second window please.” Close enough. I pull up to the window rubbing the red mark on my forehead that I had developed after I banged my head on my steering wheel. Purposefully. She hands out my precious gem, it feels warm, and it smells like happiness. I start driving and wait for my coffee to cool a bit, the knowledge of its presence awakens me, it brings hope. Half way to work I open my little blessing and take a sip. Suddenly I let out a guttural “NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”. They put sweetener in my coffee! Not sugar. No, sweetener. Copious amounts of sweetener. The anger I felt in that moment is not even close to being considered rational. I know, disturbing, right? So I pour out my coffee, and then finally get to work…where the coffee is empty. I had to pray, people…I had to pray. Moral of the story: Don’t stay up and watch the extra innings of the Cardinals game unless you are going to sleep in the next morning. Bonus lesson: That woman DOES NOT deserve $15 an hour. That is all.
Posted on: Thu, 18 Sep 2014 20:33:12 +0000
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