Grr. At least one 15 minute period of my morning was completely ruined by an incompetent.
This morning on the way to work, I dropped off my friend stimpy. In Acton, on route 27, I stopped at the McDonald's for a quick bite. I swear, I think this is the only McDonald's in its own building that doesn't have a drive-thru in the WORLD.
I walk in, wearing my stupid green Ron Jon's Surf Shop pork-pie hat. I was in a fairly decent mood, considering it was only 8:55am. I stood around for a few minutes before a very diminutive woman came up to take my order.
"Can I help you?" she muttered in an almost unintelligible Spanish accent.
"Err, yes, I'd like a #7, with ham instead of sausage." (That's the Spanish Omelette Bagel sandwich meal, btw)
"You want the Steak with . ." she trailed off, confused.
"No, the Spanish Omelette Bagel meal," I said, pointing to the menu on the wall.
She stood there, staring at the terminal screen and its buttons for about a minute before the manager finally realized my plight and attempted to rescue me. "He wants a steak ..." she started to tell the manager before I clarified again, "No, no, I'd like the Spanish Omelette meal with ham on the sandwich instead of sausage."
The manager punched about 29 keys and then nodded. "And to drink?" the woman asked?
"I'll have a medium french vanilla," I say. She looks around confusedly. I point behind her at the machine. She puts the cup underneath and presses the button.
"Can I help next person please?" she asks. I step aside. Some guy named Grant Hicks (and the name sounded familiar) stepped up and ordered a #3 (Sausage McMuffin with egg meal) with a large coffee, black, and a breakfast burrito.
Somewhere in here, I pay, and she gives me a bag with my sandwich in it, and my cup of frothy sugary instant goodness. "Hey, wait a second, doesn't the "meal" come with a hash brown?" I ask.
"You not ask for meal. You said sandwich," she states matter-of-factly and turns away to get Grant Hicks his meal. I stand there, waiting. This is unacceptable. She brings Grant back a bag of food and his coffee. She stands there while Grant rummages through his paper bag, and I ask again, "But I asked for the meal!" I insisted. "Where's the hash brown?"
Grant Hicks pipes in with, "And while you're at it, could I get my burrito?"
She starts to argue with both of us until the manager steps in with a hash brown in one hand, and a burrito in the other. Grant and I turn and walk out.
What was my point in telling you all this? Well, simply thus. Working at McDonald's requires minimal intelligence to do what they expect of you. This isn't even really a question of intelligence, however. How could a manager put someone at the counter who couldn't understand the customers well enough to serve them properly? I'm all for equal opportunity, and diversity, but still, to work at the register, you have to be able to understand your customers. This was worse than the 15-year old pimpled kid they usually have behind the counter of a McDonald's. Grr.
(and then she ARGUED with me about it. Why? I would have thrown another dollar at her if she was really convinced I didn't pay for a meal, even though I did. I just wanted a slab of greasy ground up potato with my breakfast, is all.)
I didn't really know who Grant Hicks was. I just read his name off his credit card while he was fishing cash out of his wallet. Grant Hicks, coincidentally, was also the name of a character from Mallrats -- he was the third contestant in the gameshow. Hehehe :)