Mickey D’s

There seems to be a perpetual “We Are Hiring” sign at every McDonalds restaurant in my area. I understand that it is difficult to find people who want to be extremely busy for eight hours, constantly on their feet, earning $5 bucks an hour. So, inevitably but temporarily someone fills these positions.

Who are these people? Of course most are the “I should have fucking went to college” variety, though more and more they are the “I should have gone to middle school” variety. A few are retirees waiting for the wonderful day when they see the light at the end of the tunnel. And a couple of them are the “I hope the cops don’t find me here” types.

What’s amazing to me is that when I am preparing a meal at home, I take great strides to assure that I don’t sneeze on the food or, if I pick my nose, to wash my hands before touching the food; yet I will gladly trust Mr. “I should have gone to middle school” to prepare my burger at McDonalds. The guy could have oozing, itching boils on his ass that he scratches every five minutes for all I know. But, for some reason, this is not an issue for me or the billions and billions served.

Imagine if the “cook” is having a bad day…. And your “Special Order” interrupts his rhythm and puts him over the edge. It would go something like this. Bun, patty, mustard, ketchup, onions, bun. Bun, patty, mustard, ketchup, onions, bun. Bun, patty, mustard, ketchup, onions, bun.

Shift Manager: “Hey Jimmy, that last one was supposed to be KETCHUP ONLY”.

Jimmy: …..no response.

Shift Manager: “Jimmy, waiting on that KETCHUP ONLY.”

Jimmy: ……no response, though he looks busy.

Shift Manager: “Jimmy, what’s the wait on that KETCHUP ONLY?”

Jimmy: …….”Here ya go”

Shift Manager: “Bout time.”

Jimmy: to himself - “Bout time someone tasted that scab off my ass.”

I guess we are all just playing the odds. I know that this could and does happen, but it’s like the lottery; no way will it happen to me. To minimize the possibility of some pissed off fry cook fucking with your meal I offer these guidelines.

1.  Do not make eye contact with the cooks. Chances are they will interpret this as a threatening gesture like “What’s taking so long?” or “I just wanted to see what sucker they got to flip burgers for $5 bucks an hour.”

2.  No special orders. I don’t care if you have to pick the little onions off one at a time or if you have to scrape the mayonnaise off with your finger, just stick to the menu. It’s even better if you use the numbers. The key is to be as obscure as possible.

3.  Depending on the neighborhood, wear an appropriate T-Shirt. Shirts featuring heavy metal bands work for the most part, but not in certain neighborhoods. Shirts featuring country music artists will also work if you’re going for the sympathy angle. This is, of course, assuming the fast food cook will see you and think, “I can’t fuck with his food, he’s worse off than I am.”

4.  Wear a red shirt and tan pants. Everyone will assume your retarded. Not many fry cooks have the balls to fuck with the ‘tards.

5.  DO NOT DRESS LIKE A CATHOLIC PRIEST. Chances are that little greasy haired fry cook used to go to the local Catholic Church before the "incident" that no one wants to talk about took place.

Following the above guidelines will assure you a pleasurable fast food dining experience. Bon Appetite.

Read other heart-tugging Op-Ed's from Rocky!

Ninny Heaven
Hunting Season
My State Job
Old

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rocky26501@yahoo.com