Drive Thrus
I am totally convinced that the start of the demise of America, started when some clown in the restaurant business said: “Let’s open this window on the west side of the building for those who are too lazy to come inside for their order.”
“We can build a driveway close to the building for them to pick up their order. Let’s put speakers out near the back of the property, for customers to yell their orders into.”
“When you take their money and give them their order, they will be all the way to Scratch Ankle, before realizing that you gave them small fries instead of large. They won’t drive back this far for the corrected order.”
“Our marketing department has calculated that profits go up by an average of 8% if we screw up the order.”
My entire family knows that for me, going through a drive-thru ranks somewhere in the vicinity of colonoscopies, root canals and time share proposals, for the few things that I hate.
I will take a 2 by 4 to the groin before getting in the drive-thru lane.
This is a true story about my late mother-in-law, after we drove back to Orange Beach. Nello needed supper before we went to her house. She sat in the back seat like Driving Miss Daisy.
“Nello: what do you want from McDonalds?” A simple question requiring a simple answer. It was as though I was asking to explain the Monroe Doctrine in detail.
“Get me a sausage biscuit with cheese, hash browns and a senior coffee.”
I asked: “you do know that it is 7:30 pm. Not am.”
Nello knew her stuff: “They serve breakfast all day.”
Instead of going into the Golden arches, I did the unthinkable and went through the drive through.
The SUV lady, 2 cars in front of me was ordering. It is just like talking to “Oz” behind the curtain.
I rolled down my window to listen since it appeared that she had been there long enough for her hairdo to come back in style. I mumbled something about “helmet-head lady” to myself.
“No! The Happy Meal is for a boy and I want a prize that he can’t choke on. Also, substitute sliced apples for the fries. Can I get extra sauce for the chicken nuggets? Twenty-five cents each? Are you kidding me? My order costs me over $17 and you want to charge me an extra quarter for sauce?”
I wanted to yell out: “Lady, I will pay for the sauce, just move on.”
The Toyota truck in front of me was almost sitting on the springs. Most teenagers do this to be cool. This looked like it was from wear and tear.
The ladders and hanging tool- boxes sort of gave it away.
I finally reached the “Window of Oz.”
“Yes ma’am. I see on the board where you serve breakfast all day. My order is simple: I want a sausage and cheese biscuit, hash browns and a senior coffee. That is it.”
She said: “Let me see if the egg grill is on tonight. We are doing a deep-clean and it was turned off earlier.”
I knew it. I was mumbling something about Murphy’s Law.
“I am sorry sir but the grill that makes the eggs is turned off for the evening.”
“I don’t want eggs. I want sausage and cheese on a biscuit.”
“Sir: you don’t understand. We have a separate grill to cook your order.”
As 4 cars sat in line behind me, I was trying to have a conversation with my Mother-in-law who wasis hearing-challenged, about her NOW choices.”
Nello decided on the fish sandwich. “OK Ma’am, we will take the fish sandwich with..”
Ms. Oz interrupted: “Do you want the 2 for $5 special?”
“Yes, that would be great.”
“What is your second choice?”
“Can we get fries?”
“No. That would be a fish sandwich meal, not 2 for $5.”
My blood pressure was now somewhere in the range of 235 over 190. “Just give us the 10- piece chicken nuggets with that.”
“What sauce do you want with the nuggets?”
I turned to Nello in the back seat: “What kind of sauce do you want with your chicken nuggets?”
“Tartar sauce.”
“Nello, the tartar sauce is for fish. We will take ranch dressing. Don’t forget the senior coffee with 3 things of cream.”
This is the truth with my hand on Ray Kroc’s headstone: “WE just poured out the coffee. Randy: How long will it take to make a pot of coffee?”
“She will take a diet coke. Before you ask me, make it a large.”
“Can I get a name for the order? Your total is $6.67.”
I wanted to say: “Lady, we are in line behind each other. This is not NASCAR. I started to say: Ronald, as in goofy-ass McDonald.”
When I got to the window, I gave her $21.67.
“Why did you give me this much?”
“Well, I thought you could just give me back $15 in change.”
“I will have to check with my manager.”
“Here ma’am: take it out of this $10.”
When I die, if they have a drive-thru viewing, I am rising and asking:
“Do you want fries with that?”