Dear Fast Food Worker Who Thinks She needs Fifteen Bucks An Hour:
Hi there. You might remember me. I'm the chick who came through your drive thru and mispronounced 'Mocha Frappe' because I was distracted by an 8 year old singing to her new stuffed animal in the back seat, and a dog in my front seat who smelled your carcinogenic french fry vapor wafting through the air conditioning vent and decided he needed to climb halfway out the window just to get a few good whiffs. Don't think I didn't notice your pause before correcting me: "You mean the FRAP-AYE?" Whatever. In this day of Diet Don't's, you had what I wanted: caffeinated diabetes in a plastic cup, topped with sweet, sweet processed sugar. Plus, I noticed, from 2 to 5pm, you offered this sugary shizz at a dollar discount. Score. It was only going to cost my debit card a dollar and a half, but the Regret Hangover was something that would stay with me far longer. I forgave your tone and pulled to your window. This is where I made the decision that I hated you.
"Oh, hey, I think you forgot to discount the mocha." I showed her my receipt.
Without looking, the girl shook her head and told me the girl at the first window should have discounted the order already.
I waved my receipt. "But she didn't."
Silence,
Hm. As a sanctimonious former fast food worker myself, I understood where she was coming from. It's the after school rush, probably someone called in, maybe she's about to get off work and has 3 things she has to do before her manager will let her go home, or it could be that she got called in on her day off and wasn't even supposed to be here... again, whatever. I get it, girlfriend. I lived that life for longer than I care to admit. What I didn't get, though, was why she shrugged and kept on going about her business.
I wear my customer service scars in the form of a smile and polite tone when I interact with those in the business, because the public is a bunch of assholes who want everything for a dollar and they want it 5 minutes ago. There could be any number of reasons why she was too distracted to look at my fucking receipt and just adjust the price, but I assure you, my tone of voice was not one of them.
She returned to the window and held my drink out to me. I sat there with my Scar Face on and just waited. She didn't move, so I slowly held out my receipt and turned my mouth into a smile that didn't reach anywhere near my eyes.
No movement on her end, so I narrowed my eyes into little slits.
I could feel my 8 year old grow still in the seat behind me, and I just know she was trying to telepathically warn Burger Girl that shit was about to get real.
I never, ever, EVER reveal my past life as a manager of fast food. That's like bragging to someone that you once spent 12 years treading water in a cesspool, but it was okay because you were wearing a rubber jumpsuit.
And I wasn't going to say anything like that to this girl, because it would only have pissed her off. However, there was an opportunity to retrain this little witch over the effortless way to correct an innocent mistake on their end. Hell, I'm the one who handed over my debit card without paying attention to the price. Oh, wait, that was because they never told me the price, they just asked me to pull forward, then swiped my card and handed me my receipt and waved me forward.
So, Longview McDonald's, I'll let you in on a little secret.
YOU SUCK AND YOUR FRAPPE WAS GOOD, BUT I WON'T BE BACK BECAUSE
A) MY WAISTLINE CAN'T HANDLE IT AND
B) YOU AREN'T VERY NICE
Also, that's what I get for cheating on my clean eating, organic foods lifestyle.
At least I don't do Cross Fit.
