Are you serious right now?

God Bless America. Happy 4th of July to me. I had to work today from 6-2. I have been continually amazed this week at just how rude people can be. There are some people I just want to ask how their mother raised them. I mean really? People get so upset and so passionate about McDonald's. McDonald's. Seriously? I mean could we channel that passion to like world poverty, the AIDS epidemic, the American underground slave trade, and child labor? I mean maybe? No, instead we must act like typical fat Americans that want their McDonald's and they want it right freaking now. And if they don't get it they will go the extra mile to make sure your day is ruined. This week I have been chewed out my a girl that was younger than me. I have a ten year old boy role his eyes at me when I couldn't hear him mumbling his order. I had a lady refuse to my face to pull forward when her order wasn't ready, forcing me to walk around the building and give the guy behind her his order through his passenger window. Today people were swearing at me from across the parking lot because I was taking out someone else's hold order before theirs. I had a lady scratch me with her witch nails while grabbing a bag out of my hand because she felt she had waited to long (probably like 2 minutes), and then drive off before I could smack her in the face. I repeat, Are you serious right now? The wonderful part is the majority of the time, the rude people are so obese they can hardly fit in their car, and have to lean the seat back to get behind the steering wheel. They don't need to be at McDonald's anyway.
Next time you go through a fast food drive through, or next time you get groceries, or next time you talk to anyone is customer service, do me a favor and be extra polite to them. Even if something is wrong. Don't shoot the messenger. Work through it like you were talking to a human being. It really could bless them and make their day.

I'm Lovin' It

Oh how can I not write about my wonderful job? I mean, I work at McDonalds. I will openly admit, I never thought at this point in my life I would revert back to food business. Let alone McDonalds, there stereo type for the lazy teenager job. However, I will not spend this blog sounding completely ungrateful for my job, because quite honestly I had a hard time finding one, and this one is giving me 40 hours a week. Praise God!
Yes, the McDonalds I work at is a fancy new one and looks very similar to the one pictured here. It's weird kinda, but nice. I work at probably one of the nicest cleanest McDonalds I have ever been to. We keep the place nice, and all the food is clean, guarenteed. The most interesting part of my job is by far the customers. I would say maybe 60% of the time I am up front. I usually arrive at 6 a.m. I work front counter and pour coffee for countless old men. I love them all. They usually make my day, and I try my best to make theirs. It's a mutual thing. And since we all see each other darn near every morning, we better enjoy each other. One of my favorite customers is a guy named Tom. He comes in and we tell him to leave, or as Sandra (who has been there forEVER) would say, "Go have a good day somewhere else." We tell him he causes trouble and all that, and he just says he feels right at home. He's nagged from the minute he walks into the door until the minute he leaves. Of course it's all in good fun and we all love him to death. That's one part of my job. I will admit, despite the wonderful old men, there are a few creepy ones, and a few grumpy ones, but on the whole they are quite an ok group of guys. However, if given the opportunity, I happily opt out of front counter duty. I work 6-2 most days, and front counter doesn't stay busy. It makes the day go really long when you wipe the counter off for the 100th time trying to look busy. When I don't do that, I work drive through. Oh my oh my. The McDonalds drive through. There is NO DRESS CODE. Just a tip to all you all: No we really don't care if you are wearing pajama pants or if your car is a mess. But we do care if: you blow your nasty second hand smoke in our face, you treat us like dirt, you pay ten dollars in change, you refuse to turn off your disel truck while ordering, you yell at us when we miss something, usually because you are mumbling, and when you chew us out over a sprite. Seriously guys. Oh and one more thing, we do expect some clothes. I promise you everyone can see you that works in McDonalds. Cover up your tatas, put on a shirt, and for crying out loud a bath robe? We have eyes folks.
I thinks that's all I have to say for now. I will share more McDonalds stories at a later time.