Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Pressure....It's What's for Dinner!

For reasons that I choose not to reveal at this time (to confound my stalkers...and DYFS), I've been driving through the drive-thru lane at McDonalds quite often lately.  And each time I arrive at the first of three windows (1=order, 2=pay, 3=collect food), my heart starts to race.

It's not because I've seen Supersize Me, that wonderful documentary by Morgan Spurlock tracing the deleterious health consequences of eating a diet of McDonald's three times a day for an entire month.  It's because, apparently, when the server greets me with "WELCOMETOMCDONALDSWOULDYOULIKETOTRYOURDELICIOUSOATMEALNO?MAYITAKEYOURORDERPLEASE?" he means...well, may I take your order please right now.

Forget the fact that I've just put the car in park, and haven't even had the chance to unfurl my napkin or glance at the daily specials menu the menu board with the raw egg running down it.  Doesn't every gourmand  like to take her time to consider before ordering?  What do I feel like eating today?  How will that resonate with what I ate yesterday?  When I feel pressured to choose an appetizer, entree, dessert AND drink by a disembodied 17 year old voice and a line of cars stretching back to the Burger King down the road, I get very, very nervous.

I know it's fast food, but do they have to rush me?


  1. I once spent ten minutes at Sonic talking to an intercom that wasn't turned on. I thought that if I talked slowly, enunciating every syllable they would intuitively know that I just wanted a corn dog. How hard is that?

  2. I can top Karla....I once gave my order to the trash recepticle at Dunkin' Donuts and wondered why no one was saying, "please drive up."

  3. OMG, just spit my coffee out reading Karla and then Eva's comments. Two freakin funny girls. You people stick together, don't you? (that's why I'm here)
    On Easter, we decided to have Arby's and I went through the drive-thru. The place looked open and it was the middle of the freaking day. Not a sound came from the box. I questioned the box. I got angry with the box. I even tried singing to the box. (I'm usually pretty charming in that area). Nothing.
    With hurt feelings, I made my leave....and just as I pulled out of the drive, I saw a sign (big as Texas) that said "Closed".
    For cryin out loud!

  4. I had that same experience at Sonic, Karla. Did the roller-blading server slam into the side of your van and get chili all over the freshly printed out Nascar tickets?

  5. Most of the time I don't go through the drive-through: I walk in, and order it to go. It used to drive my kids crazy, but my fiancee feels exactly the same way I do about it.