A Not-So-Happy Meal

A Not-So-Happy Meal

During our go-home day after a long 2,200-mile roadtrip with my daughter and her family and two granddaughters, all sitting amongst piled-up luggage and miscellaneous souvenirs (including one particularly sweet rusted metal armadillo with a bobble-head that was purchased in an old Route 66 way-station) in a rented dirty white church van that had served us well, Kim started out with a desperate cry for a stop at Starbucks. I had a van full of hungry campers and, did I mention, I both hate coffee and do not understand the 99% of the world that seems to love the stuff. Therefore, we stopped at Wendy’s first and got food and then stopped and waited…and waited…and waited some more, while Kim and Carolyn got their Frappuccino’s or whatever it was that they were drinking. Now, I can be a patient guy at times (can you see my Pinocchio nose growing?) but this was pushing my limit, and yet, we made it through and hit the road for our final push for home.

This was a final, rearranged travel day that was agreed that morning would be longer than normal, but have the benefit of getting us home rather than another less than perfect night in a roadside motel. I even booted my full lodging deposit just to have the opportunity to enjoy my own bed after ten days on the road. The plan was to make the final 5.5 hour push home from Oatman, AZ and arrive home at 7:30pm. We also agreed that we would gas up in Palm Desert and then push over the hill to Temecula, where we would stop for the girls’ favorite comfort food, a McDonalds happy meal with chicken McNuggets, French fries and a water. Naturally, Carolyn, Kim, John and I would also order some sort of dinner-equivalent and call it a day of fine dining as we drove the final 30 minutes down the 15 to our hilltop haven. I was already collecting kudos from Kim that I had done a marvelous job of flawlessly driving them all through the 2,200 mile odyssey.

What seemed like a plan that went off flawlessly as we pulled into Temecula on Rt. 79 exactly on time (no dirty white church van problems, no roadside emergencies, no heavy traffic, no nodding off and running off the road like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Vacation), quickly turned into a nightmare on several levels.

Kim had pre-identified two McDonald’s on Rt. 79 in Temecula and commented that she was surprised to see two so close together. That was the first clue that should have tipped us off that we were heading into McDonald’s Twilight Zone. I was directed to pull into a shopping mall and that the McDonalds should be right next to the Walmart and yes, it did indicate on Google Maps that it had a drive-through since this was supposed to be a grab-and-go program that would get us home quickly. I timidly suggested that maybe we should try the other McDonalds instead, only to be told to be quiet. As we drove to where Google Maps directed us, we found ourselves near the Walmart dumpsters with no McDonalds in sight. We drove around the parking lot (always a fun exercise on a Friday evening) only to see that the McDonalds was apparently inside the Walmart (a new configuration even to an avid Walmart denizen like Carolyn) and there was no drive-through after all. Not to worry, we would just go a mile down the road to the other McDonalds.

We did just that and wound our way around some apparent construction at this McDonalds and into the drive-through line. That is when I told all van inhabitants to get their ordering mojo on as I approached the ordering microphone and large lighted menu display. When it was my turn, I sat there waiting patiently (did I mention that I’m good at that?), but no one came on to greet me, so I started regularly saying, “Hello?” until it turned into something more like, “Hello!!!?” That should have been clue number two, but I carried on. I recited the six meal selections like a champ with only two interruptions from Kim and Carolyn since those are mandatory when talking into a drive-through ordering station. The guy at the other end repeated back the order properly to me, so I had the misimpression that we were all set.

When I got to Window #1 to pay, the gal there read me the order, but left several things off. So I politely and with amazing nemonic skills recited the perfect review of the six meals and extraneously ordered items including three apple pies (not specifically requested, but always in demand when available). The gal looked at me and said, “That’s right, that’s what I said.” I paid her with a card ($60 more or less) while mumbling under my breath that that was not what she had said, and she looked at me like I had three heads. But we pulled up to Window #2 nonetheless and while once again reciting my order from memory I added when asked about it that I would like a BBQ dipping sauce for my fries. No problem, coming right up….oops….not so fast, Abernathy. Apparently, one or two of the items were special order and would require me to pull around into waiting spot #2, please and the meal would be right out. Now, I hate it when that happens, but have learned that the drive-in show must go on, so I do as I am told, grumbling about it, but doing it nonetheless, handing Kim the receipt.

As I pull around to the spots, remember that I am navigating a dirty white church van around a tight-cornered McDonalds chicane course, I see that there is a construction truck and demolition trailer complete with loading ramp down next to the McDonalds and right behind the numbered parking slots for awaiting drive-through customers. Naturally, someone is already in slot #1, making slot#2 virtually inaccessible (due particularly to the construction vehicle blocking the space available) by a normal car, much less a dirty white church van. I grumble, but pull in at an angle as best I can until Kim tells me she has to go into McDonalds to use the bathroom. She returns quickly to say that the inside is being renovated and hence the construction truck and no bathrooms are available. She also tells me that I must move since I am blocking the exit for car #1. I am starting to heat up now, and despite grousing about it, I pull out of the angled wedge of a spot while the construction guys are giggling at me from under their hard hats. They think my woes are funny as shit in my dirty white church van. Finally, I get out and idle, blocking several spaces and cars, but needing to stay near enough to space #2 to be recognizable to the delivery person. Kim, now gathers the car garbage and tosses it out while she goes over to Taco Bell to find a bathroom. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking away and no food has arrived, only wheelbarrows full of demolition detritus from inside the McDonalds.

When Kim returns she tells me I have to move to accommodate the exit by car #1, I tell her that car behind me is car #3. She insists that it is car #1 and I am blocking its exit. I reluctantly pull forward a bit and car #3 pulls into slot #3 as I had expected. I reminded Kim that there is more than one blue car in Temecula. Still no food after what must have been 20 minutes (Einstein understood that in crises like these time stands still, so who knows how much time had really passed). With Kim in the car, we see that the drive-through is momentarily empty and then notice that there is Saigon declaring that this McDonalds is under construction and only the drive-through is open, no indoor dining. So, at Kim’s suggestion I pull up into the drive-through, and while doing so ask her to give me the receipt so I can make a fuss about our food. She tells me that she threw it out with the garbage. I glare at her wordlessly and pull through the ordering station and up to window #1 where I tell the same dim-witted cashier to tell the manager to meet me at window #2 since I haven’t gotten my food yet. She does so and he and a smiling high school clerk are waiting for me at window #2. The kid wants in on this commotion and thinks it is funny as hell to have an irate drive-through customer. I finally tell him to get out of the way so I can talk to the manager. My temperature is now between par-boiled and fully baked.

I give the manager what for about the delay of 20 minutes, the construction vehicle, the inaccessible waiting slots and my hemorrhoids. Kim tried to be helpful by telling me to calm down (which, as we all know, always helps so very much in these situations). Meanwhile the entire McDonalds staff has gathered by the window to watch the manager (a guy perhaps two years older than the high school kids working there) handle this exploding drive-through lunatic. You’d think they had never seen a guy with steam coming out of his ears. The manager did what an inexperienced manager does, he tried to tell me he would only talk to me if I calmed down. When I did he told me that he did not control the construction crew and that he only had one food runner and that everything else was corporate’s problem and that he was just trying to do his job. Absolutely no empathy for my plight, just excuses for his tough young life as a McDonalds manager. He asked me which order was mine and I recited the entire order from memory, amazing myself that it was clear and ingrained in my short term memory as it was. He handed me two now grease-stained bags that had been sitting somewhere while not getting delivered to spot #2 or its vicinity. More excuses from the man while Kim said, let’s go.

No such luck. I said I wanted compensation for this fiasco. Obviously, it had nothing to do with $60, but everything to do with righteous indignation and the ten workers giggling about my plight and reaction thereto. He offered a free pie for the kiddies. No dice. I told him I wanted 6 meal vouchers. I then put the dirty white church van in Park, and declared that his McDonalds, which was only doing drive-through business that day, was officially our of business until he gave me satisfaction. He said no. I said that he had better call the cops then, because I wasn’t budging. Needless to say, my carload of kids was quiet as church mice at this point. He came back with a most unusual offer of 5 free meal vouchers, which was the “Best he could do.” I process quickly and that counter-offer amazed me. Why would he do that? To prove to his workers that he was a good negotiator? Because he was rule-bound to offer no more than five? I quickly recognized that time and temperature were on his side and that my two happy mealers were really only equal to one, so that 5 was the right number (rationalizations rule at moments like this) and I said, “Deal.” He said drive around and come in and I said, “No way, give them to me here and now or your business is shut down for the day.” The cars behind me were too scared by the spittle come out of the window towards the McDonalds to risk honking.

He told and underling to bring him five vouchers from his office and he and I passed the time talking niceties about the problems of running a low-wage retail food outlet in a country that wants to control immigration for silly cultural rather than economic reasons. He than handed me the five vouchers, which I gave to Kim and I drove off, hitting every curb from there to the Rt. 79. As Kim handed around the food to the quiet occupants, I snorted that I had gotten what I wanted and what an inexperienced idiot he was. I then tasted the fries and found them cold and without salt, so I asked for my BBQ dipping sauce. Oops, there was none in the bag. I declared the fries inedible. While I jammed a bite of Big Mac into my face, not caring how much secret sauce ran down my chin into my beard, I told Kim that I had half a mind to drive back to Temecula tomorrow and have a chat with the real manager at the McDonalds rather than this shift supervisor who had clearly not gone to Ronald McDonald University (I’ve actually been to that place in Illinois). I then said I would just give the vouchers as a gift to someone. She looked at the expiration date and said, “not so fast , Abernathy, these expired on June 30th!” After dislodging the Big Mac bite from my throat, I realized that I had been bettered by the young shift supervisor. The rest of the ride home I got to listen to Carolyn read the Google reviews on that McDonalds, which gets a 3.1 rating and has more bad reviews that describe exactly what we had encountered…all reviews within the last month, so very recent. Thus ends our Not-so-happy meal experience at the end of long roadtrip suddenly made that much longer.