Wednesday, June 29, 2011

an open letter to mcdonalds

Dear Ronald,

I was a recent customer at one of your fine establishments, and thought I’d drop you a quick letter about my experience.

My McDonalds visit began quite well; I wound down my car window to yell my order at the drive-thru box, and that unmistakable McDonalds smell filled my car – it is indeed the scent of childhood and birthday parties, and according to rumour, also the smell of homeless people being ground up and made into burgers. If there was any hydration left in my body, that smell would have caused me to salivate, but seeing as I was at McDonalds, it meant that I was as hungover as Charlie Sheen and needed all the moisture my body could produce to enable me to speak.

I don’t know if it was my hangover, my disdain for fuckheaded teenagers, or the fact that the fuckheaded teenager taking my order was exceptionally fuckheaded (possibly a combination), but try this conversation when you can feel your eyeballs pulse with every heartbeat:
“Hi, what do you want?”
“Can I please have a large Big Mac meal, a Gr-”
“Is that all?”
“Is that all?”
“No. A Grand Angus, a six-”
“Is that all?”
“No. And a six-pack of -”
“Is that all?”
“A six-pack of nuggets SHUT THE FUCK UP and a chocolate sundae.”
“Is that all?”
“And a cheeseburger. And that is all.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes. That is all.”
“That’s a million billion dollars, please drive through to the next window.”

It’s at the mystical “next window” that I met the little shit who took my order. I’m not sure why I couldn’t just tell him face-to-face instead of leaning out of my car window and yelling into the speaker, but I’ll leave that up to you to work out, Ronald.

Upon receiving my bag of deliciousness, I drove home, set up a fort made out of cushions and spread out my feast of saturated fats, unsaturated fries and moist ice-cream. On the drive home from the restaurant, I had made a mental plan of how I was going to eat this meal: fries go inside the cheeseburger, take alternate bites of that and sundae (also eaten with fries). Then two nuggets, then the Big Mac, then the rest of my nuggets (while mindlessly stuffing more fries into my mouth). Drink the melted bits of my sundae and scoop out the chocolate with my fingers. Then I would eat the bits of the Grand Angus that my girlfriend didn’t want and finish off with a massive coronary. It was all planned out, Ronald, and it was going to be glorious.

The entrée of fries and cheeseburger began badly when I realised that there was a missing ingredient – the burger. A cross-section of the burger went: bun, cheese, pickle, bun. I am sure about this; I checked it at least twice. I even checked the bag again to make sure that the patty hadn’t been wrapped separately. I know that you are running a very successful organisation, Ronald, I would advise against selling cheese sandwiches. That thing tasted like balls.

The Grand Angus for mains was also disappointing, in the fact that it was a chicken burger with no sauce, and the tomato slice within the burger still contained the stem from the plant (seriously, why are you combining chicken, tomato and cheese anyway? Does anyone actually eat these things before you sell them, or do you just assume: chicken = good, tomato = good, cheese = good, slap them all together and serve them in Grand Angus packaging?) and it looked like the genius who made it wasn’t sure if there was supposed to be lettuce in the burger or not, as there was enough to confuse it for garnish, but not entirely enough for it to be tasted.

The meal wasn’t a complete disaster however, as the McNuggets lived up to their full potential; if anything, I was disappointed that I didn’t get a larger pack. The fries too, were outstanding and hot – I don’t know if this is due to them being freshly cooked, or whether there are new heat lamps being used, and I don’t care. Whatever you are doing there is good by me.

Anyway, that was my McDonalds experience, Ron. While it wasn’t the best time of my life, it wasn’t a complete mess and I’ll definitely do it again soon. However, if I ever get that punk in the drive-thru again, I’m going to climb through that little window and kick the shit out of him.

I hope that things are still going well for you. Say hi to Grimace for me, and you really should make more commercials involving the Hamburglar. I swear that kids today have never seen him.


Mister Evil Breakfast

I see what you did there

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