It’s a rare occasion we visit McD’s these days.  Trying diligently to permanently adopt that healthy lifestyle. But, we stopped by today, as a lunch treat, after a morning of shopping for back to school.  I pulled up, ordered our usual “healthiest of the choices” with two small vanilla shakes to bolster my chances in running for Mother of the Year.  When I got to the window and paid, the gal said, “Wow, you knew just what you wanted, I love customers like you.”  “Why thank you,” I thought, my type A ego sufficiently stroked.

Then I arrived at the pick-up window.  No one was there. I noticed two small chocolate shakes melting at the window. They were very drippy and soupy.  I thought, “Poor person who ordered those!” Still no helper. I glanced in the rear view and noticed a lengthy line had formed behind me.  My Type A personality felt a tinge of panic at the thought I caused this “special order” back up with my “hold this and hold that.” 5 minutes.  I know it’s only 5 minutes, but come on, in the drive thru 5 minutes is like too short a swimsuit on a too long a ride home from the beach. You know I’m right. Then she arrived…7 minutes.  She opens the window and proceeds to hand me the chocolate soup.  I say, “Oh, we ordered vanilla.”  She continues to extend the shakes and says, “I know. They’re supposed to be vanilla they just look like that.”  She just held the chocolate soup out the window for me to take.  I just stared at her.  She snipes, “Ok, I guess I’ll fix it.”  “That would be swell,” I say. 

The line behind me is now up to Bellingham. My eye is twitching. Her hair color is irrelevant but when she came back to the window I couldn’t help but notice the fluorescent pink bands on her braces. Sans shake she delivers a doozy, “Uh, ya, our vanilla shakes are just like that.” Stares at me.  I say, “Your vanilla shakes are like chocolate soup?”  She grimaces, “Noooo, our vanilla shakes are a little, like, runny.”  Well hon, I’m a little, like, Charlize Theron and a lot, like, Dog the Bounty Hunter… I’m not here to cause trouble, I just want what’s right. So if you’ll kindly hand over my non-chocolate vanilla soup I’ll be on my way. She’s still staring. She brazenly asks, “Um, soooo, do you still want ‘em?” I’ve never wanted vanilla soup so badly in my entire life. “Yes dear, please. But, explaining to Mr. AC Delco behind me why his lunch hour has dwindled to zero is on you and your ineptitude.”

My 9 year old wrapped it up nicely as we drove away, “I think we all understand now why they have a help wanted sign in the window!”