But you compound your chances of frustration when you place an order through a modern fast food drive thru.
My luck with fast food places (not named Chic-Fil-a) has been a hit and miss proposition of late. I never go through a drive through if I have a chance given I had a credit card duplicated by a visit a year or so ago when visiting a Wendy's. Because I was a loyal customer of theirs (note: "was"), I knew how long the lunch drive thru would take and one visit that resulted in me being subjected by a Eastern European immigrant gang by duplicating my card ended my visiting a drive thru again.
Until yesterday.
I was forced to choose a drive thru since the Toyoduh Corona virus has made it impossible to visit a restaurant to face another human and hope to receive food as it was ordered. As risk averse as I have become, I was not happy to have to go through a McDonald's drive thru. Never has a McDonald's drive thru experience been pleasant and now that I wasting my gas waiting for the line to move, I was not any more impressed by the seemingly lack of urgency to move cars.
Of course I ended up behind a Jughead making multiple orders - multiple separate orders - and of course asshole customer was whining and complaining once he received his orders. Who knew that his bitching might have had a real reason, because once it was my turn to hand my card to a cashier (thankfully not Eastern European in accent), I got a chance to see how awful fast food drive thrus have become. Of course I didn't look inside the bag or check the beverage until I had parked in the parking lot (where I couldn't get a virus from some other customer).
What the fuck do you do when you can't take the fucked up order into the restaurant where you can hope someone behind the counter will notice you?
Well, I wasn't going back into the line of cars again.
So I muttered to myself and ate the order that I was regretting having to eat.
The sandwich was fine - it was almost hot. It was almost good. And that is where the goodness ended.
The fries I reached for were hot. They were also undercooked. It was obvious that the limp thing that I put in my mouth was never going to get erect. The fries were obviously pulled early from the non-beef-tallow shortening. I guess I should have counted my lucky stars that these fries were pulled AFTER they were half way done. The fries weren't fully cooked. They were horrific. I ate them all hoping I wouldn't barf them up later. The good news my stomach didn't purge the limpness.
And then I reached for the $1 large beverage I ordered. It was supposed to be a Coke. It turned out to be a mop bucket tasting thing impersonating Sweet Tea - and here in the south, Sweet means that you have tea flavored sugar syrup. I nearly barfed. It was like licking my first snatch without the fish smell. But it was no less rancid or revolting. Lucky me having a warm liquid in my mouth when there was supposed to be something chilled. Apparently this was fresh mop water since I eventually reached a strata of a cold band that resulted in almost ice to be consumed along with five pounds of sugar and a teaspoon of tea.
Dog germs! Dog germs! I wish I was Lucy enough to slug someone.
Instead I was Charlie Brown and I endured half of the swill before I couldn't take anymore.
I guess I should count my lucky stars that it was not like my last and only Shamrock Shake from a visit to the inside before the Toyoduh Corona virus was all the rage. This was a dine-in experience where Ramone and Leroy couldn't figure out how to make a Shamrock shake during lunch and ended up pouring in green syrup into a vanilla shake and blended it in such a way that it was less blended than a bar of Irish Spring. I guess there was a hint of mint in between giants splatters of vanilla in my mouth. These splatters of vanilla were interrupted by huge gushes of mint that made me wish for some hot protein squirts.
But this is McDonald's and possibly catching a virus would be a better outcome than actually eating and drinking this shit.
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