Pissing Vinegar Vol. 44: My Favourite Target

Okay, here's the situation...

Have you ever found yourself in a vicious circle? It could happen in a relationship, in a battle with addiction, or even in a mundane everyday setting. For example, let's say you spend every day the same way. You wake up, clean up, eat, go to work, come home, watch TV, check your email and go to bed. You never deviate from that schedule. And you hate it. So you try to change it by switching things up a little. Maybe you eat before your shower, or check your email before TV. Whatever the case, you become satisfied with the changes you've made to your lifestyle. Which is why it sickens you when you suddenly realize that you've dropped the ball. Without even thinking about it, things have returned to the way they were before.

We all go through times in our life when we feel we're trapped in one of these vicious circles. It's an incredible pain in the ass, but eventually we make enough mistakes that we have no choice but to learn from them.

Well, at least I hope so.

This morning, I roll out of bed as groggy as ever, and look at the clock. It's 10:40, and I'm hungry. Rational thought tells me that I'm a five minute drive away from McDonald's, and that I can feed my hunger with a couple of Egg McMuffins. Yes, that would do the trick quite nicely. So, I throw on some clothes and a hat, jump in the car, and mosey on down the road. Without incident, I arrive at the drive-thru with five minutes to spare. There are two cars ahead of me and, though the first one appears to be getting slow service, I don't panic. This is McDonald's; this shit happens all the time. A minute or so goes by, and the line advances. Next up is a carload of girls, so I'm thinking they'd better be anorexic. Fortunately, they've already ordered their breakfast and are here to get said order fixed. This is McDonald's; this shit happens all the time.

At 10:57, it's my turn. No sweat, I made it free and clear, we're good to go.

"Just one moment, please."

Ah, the proverbial "just a moment, please". Nothing quite says "They don't pay me enough to watch their stupid training videos so I don't and because of this I get into situations just like this where I don't know what the hell I'm doing and everything's happening so fast and I've lost control of the situation so I need to take a moment and breathe and remember who I am and Goddamn it why do you people never stop coming here I get so angry with the cars and their people ordering food and expecting good service I can't take this shit anymore" like "just a moment, please". It's nothing I haven't heard before. This is McDonald's; this shit happens all the time.

So, I'd say no more than 30 seconds goes by until our brave employee composes herself enough to take my order. I announce my intentions of consuming two of the tasty Bacon & Egg McMuffins they have on the sign directly beside my car. A pause. A silence. "Just one moment, please".

Wait a minute, I already heard that once today. This is different...

"I'm sorry, we're no longer serving breakfast."

Funny, I think to myself. My clock says 10:58. You serve breakfast until 11am. It says so on the sign. You know, the one with the breakfast menu on it that I'm looking at from my car right this second.

"You served the person ahead of me breakfast."

"I'm sorry, sir. That was the last order we had."

Now, I don't even know what that means. They ran out of breakfast? They ran out of customers? They ran out of orders? What about me? I have an order! What the fuck is going on in there? All I know is that if I speak, I could very well break this girl's fragile head with my words, so I elect to speed out of the drive-thru (and by "speed", I mean go as fast as my little Hyundai will take me under the circumstances), park in the lot, and go inside. So that's what I do. And, once inside, there's only one thing I'm looking for. A manager? Fuck that; complaining to the manager is like walking up to a priest and telling him Jesus loves him. It does zero good. Sure, you might get some coupons, but what the fuck are you going to do with them? Bring them with you next time? That's like base diving off of a cliff, breaking your leg, and coming back the next week with the cast. Having said that, of course I'm a hypocrite for saying that, but I've never claimed to practice what I preached.

No, what I'm looking for is just beyond the brain trust. Behind the counter, toward the drive-thru, and up. Voila! The clock! Which just now turned to 11:00. Just as I suspected. An establishment that announces breakfast until 11am, but stops serving it to their customers at 10:58. Now, some people might argue that being off by two minutes is no big deal. Fair enough; let's say for the sake of argument that two minutes is no big deal. Great. Now light yourself on fire. I'll douse you in two minutes.

Back in the restaurant, I start to tell myself that this is McDonald's; this happens all the time. But, you know what? It doesn't. I've had orders fucked up beyond recognition. I've had someone laugh at me over the drive-thru speaker because they thought I said I wanted toast instead of Coke. Hell, I've gotten a bolt in my fries. I thought I'd seen it all. But, I've never been refused service until today.

So, I do what any fool with common sense would do; I drive home and fire up the computer. If I'm going to complain, I'm going to complain where it counts. Unfortunately, there are no email contacts listed on the McDonald's web site, so I had to complain two the 3 1/2 people who read this shit. At least if I sent an email, I could have had upwards of a half dozen suits sitting around a table reading "toast instead of Coke" in stunned silence. Forgive me if I find that more entertaining than the thought of you sitting in front of a computer. They're suits. Fat, bald little white guys with golden rings and dark secrets. That shit intrigues me.

By the way, isn't it kind of hypocritical to operate a website with no email listing? You can send me email; I know I put that shit somewhere on here. I mean, come on now; a website is, primarily, a method of communication via computer. Basically, what this tells me is that McDonald's would love to talk to me about food and service, they just don't want me talking to them about how awful said food and service can be unless I'd care to write a snail mail letter that gets thrown onto the pile with a thousands of others and sits there until it's time to grind that shit up for burgers. Oh, wait, I can talk to them right now! All I have to do is call them on the phone (NOT EVEN TOLL FREE), and play the wonderful, exciting, ever so inviting Switchboard Maze! Now that's fun! F-U-ck off, Ronald!

See, this is what pisses me off the most. McDonald's has been consistent when it comes to errors, and even moreso when it comes to the annual Gigantic Aggrevation. It seems at least once a year, they do something so horribly flawed, their service dips to a new low, and I write a PV explaining my intentions of never eating there again. I have to wonder, how many more people are there like me? I'm thinking a lot, especially if the company had to make it borderline impossible to complain to someone other than the lowly store managers, who are powerless to change their underwear most days, let alone the minds of a teenage staff who could give two shits whether or not you're satisfied; if they have to suffer because daddy was sick of paying a $200/month cell phone bill and made them get a job, you have to suffer too.

Through all the twists and turns, all the ups and downs, all the bolts and toasts, I must say this; I love you, McDonald's. I know I've been harsh in the past, and I promise I'll be harsh in the future, but I can't quit you, baby. Even if your fries taste like Lay's potato chips now (which, for the record, they do; I could write a ten-pager on the changing of the fries alone). See, it's so easy for me to say I'm never eating there again. I've said it before, and I've quite obviously reneged on that statement. So, fuck it. I'm going to keep on subjecting myself to Ronald's inappropriate emotional groping and fondling. You may ask why I would put myself through the shame and horror. Why would I go back to the ones who cause me so much pain, when there's a perfectly good Burger King across the parking lot?

It's simple; without McDonald's, you just lost immeasurable Pissing Vinegars. And I just lost my favourite target.

Here endeth the ePISSle.