Ronald McDonald Would Have A Frowny Face

I’ve done it dozens, if not hundreds, of times-get off at a random interstate exit for a large unsweet tea under the golden arches. Readers, friends and aliens, don’t do it in Jacksonville, Florida off of I-95. If you do, you may have a real (interpret bad) experience like I did.

Honestly, McDonalds’ employee training program could stand improvement in a lot of areas. But, I’ve been in them, in many states, with passable service. Not in Jacksonville, Florida off of I-95. Holy schmoly, those 5 eggheads behind the counter could not have avoided eye contact with me any longer without exploding or passing out. Adding to my discomfort of suspecting that I had become totally invisible between the van and the service counter, the oriental gentleman speaking in broken English, trying to bitch about the service he was not getting made the entire experience surreal.

The old oriental guy was standing outside, on the sidewalk by the drive-thru, when I drove up. He was holding a normal sized ticket in his hand and looking like he’d lost his favorite shih tzu puppy. What I think he was trying to tell me while I was being ignored by the entirety of people working in that McDonalds in Jacksonville, Florida off of I-95, is that someone got his order wrong and he was waiting for them to remake his food. I wonder if the concept of “fast food” has escaped those employees. If the old oriental guy, or me for that matter, wanted to hang around 20 minutes for food, we’d go somewhere with fewer bad physical and medical consequences.

One can’t argue that the food is bad for you. So without the “fast” there’s no reason to visit. Period. End of sentence. End of paragraph.

Those of you who are curious about outcomes…when the counter person said to me, “I can take your order now”, in the same voice that I’d use to cut, berate, belittle or piss off someone, I replied with, “I don’t think so, your service sucks and I’ll go somewhere where my patronage and my money is appreciated”.

I make no apologies for my actions to him, his manager, McDonalds’ district manager, McDonalds’ training manager, anyone from McDonalds corporate and anyone who drives a yellow Jeep. In fact, I urge each of you, in your own way, to refuse terrible service where ever you find it. Take the time to drive down the road to a competitor and spend your money there.

The moral of this story is twofold. (1) Bad service should not be tolerated, (2) I might possibly communicate better on paper than I do in person.

Take the time to figuratively spit on bad service-you might change the world.