A slave to convenience.

I hate McDonalds. I've told myself time and time again that I really need stop eating at that place. The food really sucks, and they have a tendency to fuck up my simple orders. Still, I usually end up eating there about once a week on my lunch break. Why? Because it's so damn convenient, that's why. It's the drive-through place closest to my place of work, and it's the only one besides Wendy's that isn't at least 15 minutes away.

From ninth grade until just a few years ago, I was a really strict vegetarian. Now, as a result of getting older and having my own problems to worry about, I can't bring myself to give as much of a damn as I used to about issues like animal rights, which is something I used to be on the verge of militancy about. Still, my years of meat-eating abstinence have caused me to think most meat is really too vile to eat, and a hamburger is about as appealing to me as a nice hot chunk of dog or cat on a bun would be to most of my fellow Americans. I can generally only eat meat if I can trick my brain into believing it's not really a juicy chunk of animal. I can do that with chicken McNuggets if I drown them in enough sauce. I don't think they taste good, but they're edible and provide me with sustenance when I'm hungry and on my lunch break, and I don't even have to get out of my car.

If I wasn't so damn lazy, I'd bring my own lunch to work every day. That would be the best solution. I haven't been very motivated about making something to bring to work in the morning, though. I wake up in the afternoon without much time to spare before I have to leave. I've tried to adjust my schedule since moving, but I still can't seem to wake up in the morning like a normal human being. I guess I could make something at night, but whatever. Leaving on my lunch break provides me with a moment away from the job, at any rate, and that's always appreciated.

If I was slightly less lazy, I could always choose one of the better options available for consumers willing to leave their vehicles in the evening. That, too, would be better than eating at McDonalds. Maybe it's just laziness, maybe it's me being antisocial, or maybe it's a combination of the two factors, but eating shitty food often seems like the better option, rather than getting out of my car to eat something that actually tastes halfway decent. A couple weeks ago, the cold weather saved me from another night of McNuggets by freezing my window shut. I figured if I had to get out of my car, I sure as fuck wasn't going to eat at McDonalds. I went to Jimmy John's instead, and got a veggie sub. Those actually taste alright, though I could be biased because I feel better knowing no blood was spilt to make said sandwich.

Whenever my order gets fucked up at McDonalds, I don't know what to think. Last night, when they put ice in my drink after I asked them not to, I shrugged it off and figured, "Ah, whatever, I wouldn't care at all if I worked there." The time before that, though, when I didn't get sauce, rendering my nuggets inedible, I thought, "These idiots can't fill a simple order, I really hope they don't breed." Sometimes when I don't get napkins in my visibly greasy bag, I'm pissed. Other times, I don't care at all. It's probably more of a reflection of my own mood than anything else, though. I should be expecting them to mess something up, it probably only bothers me when I'm in a lousy mood to begin with. It gives me something to direct my anger at, even if they're not the real source of my frustrations. Perhaps I frequent McDonalds because subconsciously I'm looking for a place to vent. Or maybe I'm just over analyzing what it means to get poor service at a fucking fast food joint.

All of the McDonalds packaging lately advertises their gift cards as some sort of completely awesome gift. If anybody ever gave me one of those, for any reason at all, I'd never talk to that stupid fucking asshole ever again. In fact, I think if I knew anybody who gave anybody one of those things, I'd never talk to that stupid fucking asshole again. Fuck McDonalds. Why aren't there places that sell good food in a drive-through fashion?

That guy took a drink out of the trash!

There was a period where I would always get free drinks by pulling a used cup out of the trash and getting a free refill. The trick also worked for buckets of popcorn pulled out of the trash at the movie theatre, which made for great free times after sneaking in without paying in the first place. Humans are equipped with this wonderful thing called an immune system, which protects them from nasty communicable illnesses, and I never got sick doing this. I no longer advocate such behavior, though, or even partake myself, out of fear of finally catching something from the practice. If I knew what my odds were, I'd probably still be doing it, but ignorance can be terrifying. In truth, it's probably almost as safe as eating in any restaurant. You don't know where the people making your food have been any more than you know where the person who threw away their cup has been.

Once, I was waiting in line at Taco Bell when I decided to show my friend how it was done. I went to the trash, pulled out a cup, got a refill, and got back in line.

"See that? Free drink!" I said.

"That lady is telling on you," he said, and pointed behind me. A woman was sitting with her teenage daughter, pointing me out to an employee with a broom and looking completely disgusted and offended. The employee looked at me, and then started walking in my direction. I wondered what she was going to say.

"Excuse me," she said. I moved out of the way, and she walked passed me. Apparently, there was no policy against doing that. When I ordered my food, I placed the cup conspicuously in front of me on the counter, but they didn't have anything to say about it, either.

When we left, we stuck it to The Man by taking all of the Fire Sauce.

Unsent letter to McDonald's.

To Whom It May Concern:

I work an evening shift in a building close to your establishment. My lunch break is roughly between 6:30 and 7:30 PM, and I am often too lazy to get out of my car in the pursuit of food. This leaves with me with the option of either your restaurant or the Wendy's restaurant down the road. I am a firm believer in voting with my dollars, and I have previously decided not to vote for Wendy's anymore after not receiving what I had ordered. Fast food is not rocket science, and a competent manager should be able to find a workforce capable of such simple tasks as exchanging money in return for French fries. I regret to inform you that I will not be voting for your restaurant anymore, either. This saddens me, as it means I'll have to either get out of my car to acquire food during my lunch time, or I shall have to prepare it in advance. On the up side, I doubt anyone would argue that this is the healthier and tastier option for me. I believe it is in your interest to know why I shall no longer vote for your establishment with my money. Perhaps you can take action to remedy the problems with your restaurant so that others will not make the same choice that I have.

This evening, I went through the drive through at your restaurant. I originally intended to order a coffee, fries, and two apple pies, but on my way through I decided to get a chicken McNugget meal plus the apple pies. I ordered what I wanted, specifically requesting hot
mustard sauce, as I have noticed the sauce (and ketchup, for that matter) is never offered verbally anymore when I place an order. When I was handed the bag with my food in it, I asked for some ketchup for my fries, which was given to me. Upon leaving and opening my bag to consume my food, I discovered that not only had I not been given my fries, I had not been given my hot mustard sauce, either. I tried eating a chicken McNugget without the sauce, but I'm afraid they were rendered completely inedible (to my palette) by this omission. Essentially, I had been charged $5.41 for a medium coffee and two apple pies. This is simply unacceptable. If I'm eating at McDonald's, I don't expect the food to taste good, but I think it's reasonable to expect that I get what I have paid for.

Furthermore, your apparent policy of not giving out napkins unless specifically requested is ridiculous. I know you're trying to save money, but do you honestly believe people don't need napkins to go with a visibly greasy bag of food?

I want you to know that I don't normally complain about poor service, but I am hungry and angry right now, and I blame you. Perhaps you could do something to remedy your service situation in order to retain other customers.

Cordially,

Paulo

You should go tell on us.

I was about 19 or 20 years old, eating at Burger King with my friends, Lew and Doug. At the time, we were still in the habit of taking too many condiments, so my tray and Lew's were both piled with mountains of ketchup packets, napkins, and whatever else they had to offer.

"Hey, Doug," I said, "You should go tell on us for taking too many condiments."

To my surprise, Doug got up and walked to the counter, coming back and sitting down a few moments later. Following shortly behind him was the manager, a middle aged woman. She stood at our table, staring at our condiments and looking angry, but not saying anything. She shook her head.

"That's a real waste," she said.

"Sorry," Lew said, "Do you want us to put it back?"

"No," she answered, "but when you're done eating you can leave!"

I was a teenage communist.

"Do you realize that the majority of the world's population lives in poverty?" I asked the girl pushing the broom at Taco Bell.

"No, I guess not," she said.

"Well, they do. And get this: while the majority of people are poor as hell, the richest people own the majority of everything. That is why capitalism must be smashed!"

"You're really good at preaching this stuff," she said.

Under the influence of radical zines, punk rock, and youthful idealism, I had embraced the ideals of communism in high school. I could trace all the ills of society back to the very structure of the capitalist system, which forced people to live shitty lives so that a handful of rich white men could own everything. I fought the powers that be day and night, organizing and mobilizing a powerful resistance movement, determined to make a better world for my working class comrades. By that I mean we took excessive amounts of condiments from fast food restaurants.

My friends and I were jobless high school students, so when we ate out it was invariably at a restaurant that was part of a large chain. The large chain joints were the perfect target, because their very existence signified everything that was wrong with the system. Mom and pop couldn't open a restaurant because they couldn't compete with the global empire that is McDonald's, and people in poor countries were starving because all of their farmland was owned by these same giant corporations. Every time we'd eat at one of these places, we'd walk out with our pockets stuffed with salt and pepper shakers, packs of ketchup, plastic silverware, and the like. This was our ultimate plan to create a worker's utopia, as we felt our theft of condiments would irreversibly weaken the fast food companies, and the capitalist system as a whole, to the point of defeat.

Being not just a commie, but a vegetarian commie, I always wanted to go to Taco Bell, so I could fill my belly with bean burritos before smashing the system. The acquisition of all of their Fire Sauce became our main goal. Every time we'd go to a Taco Bell, we'd completely empty the restaurant of all of the Fire Sauce they had out for their customers. We had so much of it that I ended up with a giant box of it at home, and my friend Radical Ryan had filled the vegetable drawer of his refrigerator with it. He was the only one of us who actually used the stuff outside of Taco Bell, and he had filled a ketchup bottle with it.

"This ketchup tastes weird," his mom said one night while they were eating hamburgers.

"That's not ketchup, Mom," Ryan said, "It's Fire Sauce!"

In the end, the plan to destroy capitalism by stealing their sauce didn't work. Our condiment heists began tapering off until we weren't doing it at all anymore, and then I grew up and realized people are too stupid and mean for communism to work, anyway.

Drive-through etiquette.

I was on my lunch break, in a hurry and picking up some tacos at the drive-through. A lady had pulled in to the parking lot moments before me, and she was driving up to the menu/intercom to place her order. Instead of pulling up all the way, she stayed back. She was close enough to read the menu, but not close enough to order. She sat there for a couple minutes studying the menu before pulling up and ordering. I wanted to pull in front of her while she was busy not ordering anything, but she didn't leave enough room. I kept wondering if she did that intentionally so she wouldn't lose her place in line, despite not even being prepared to be there.

What fucking planet do you have to be from to think this is acceptable? If you need to study the menu, go inside. I don't understand how some people have absolutely no problem inconveniencing others.

I don't want to unfairly judge people, but based on this woman's girth, I think it's safe to say she was no stranger to fast food, so it was pretty unlikely that this was her first visit to Taco Bell. They only have a handful ingredients that they slap together in different configurations, so you're going to get the same thing no matter what you order. If you need more than a few seconds to decide what you want, you're probably stupid enough that you shouldn't be allowed to leave the house by yourself, let alone drive a car.

Bling-bling at the drive through.

There's this guy who works the window at a nearby fast wood restaurant. Every time he hands me my food, I can't help but notice the massive 'diamond' earing in his ear. It's so shiny, there's no way a person couldn't see it if they look in his general direction. Every time I see it, I wonder who he thinks he's fooling.

Jewelry generally serves no real purpose, with the exception to the rule being widely-used items like super secret decoder rings or the more common time-keeping device. Most necklaces, rings, and earrings, particularly pieces with precious metals and gemstones, serve no purpose other than conspicuous consumption. People wear bits of shiny expensive stuff so that people know that either that the wearer is rich enough to throw money away on rocks, or that somebody cares enough about the wearer to throw away money on rocks. In the case of males wearing monster rocks in their ear, the former is more likely.

Suppose this guy has a real giant diamond in his ear. Working part time for minimum wage, he would probably have to work his ass off for a year to get that thing. Is that what he wants to imply? That he's capable of working incredibly hard simply to be able to say, in the end, that he he was able to buy a rock? Does that get you chicks? Or does he want to imply that he has a side business, perhaps selling drugs or some other high-profit activity? If that was the case, why the fuck would he be handing people greasy bags of french fries? It's more likely that his earring is a dirt-cheap cubic zirconium that he bought with less than a week's pay, but that just leads me to wonder who he thinks he's fooling. I think he's one of those guys who doesn't mind girls who are stupid as hell, because one would have to be pretty dull to be impressed by a fake diamond from a guy who's asking if they want fries with that. I've always been under the impression that if you give a girl a diamond, and it's fake, she will be mad at you, despite the fact that it looks the same and serves the same function. Maybe there's a double-standard I'm unaware of, and the ladies find fake precious stones more appealing when it's the men wearing them.

I guess it's possible that a guy working for minimum wage in the service industry is only wearing bling-bling because of his love of hip-hop culture in general. After all, most gangsta rap fans are not gangstas, even the ones who go to great lengths to look like they are.

But I still think it's fucking stupid.