LaQuicha and Nu'Von can't take their eyes off their telephone that they were able to somehow locate and to go pick up. But they are too lazy to go to a place to get a voter ID card. And expecting them to find a voting place and to then get out of their car to motivate to the line of people voting is just too much to ask.
But I digress.
Apparently in this day of healthy people catching COVID-19 and not having as much as a taco bell shit cycle, we are in an utter panic of having people get together to go inside to order at one of our places of overpaid and underperforming workplaces. So in order to prevent these places from having to place social distance stickers on their dirty ass floors, we close their doors and force everyone to get in line at a local fast food place.
Girlfriend, even on a day when the inside of the joint was free to use, the pathetic service times for an average, non-chik-fil-a were averaging five minutes from pull up to receiving the wrong order. Now make it worse by having the only way you can get your Big Mac is either by burning YOUR GAS at a drive thru lane or hiring some two bit delivery service to deliver your cold order to your front door.
Oh, I think not.
It is bad enough that on a good day you take your chances with fast food actually having hot things hot and cold things cold. Sometimes you get cold things hot and hot things cold.
Trying to place an order at these new fast food joints with two lanes of order placing is just too perplexing for me. Each and every time I manage to get some bravery and to risk a drive thru order, I am left underwhelmed. On the best of visits, the food is rarely prepared to spec. Sometimes my big ass Coke turns out to be some piss ass overly sweet tea bagging liquid that makes me want to spit.
And honey, I don't spit. I swallow. But then again, I'm perfectly Southern.
Drive thrus are like Russian Roulette but playing with thugs. You get to see wonderfully expensive weaves or the worst thing to happen to human kind - exposed and flopping snake hair with braids the thickness of a toilet bowl log and just as long. At least from the drive thru you don't see the total extent of racially sensitive hair styles, but occasionally LaQuisha lets her weave out and you have it touch your drink top or open bag.
I think I just threw up a little.
Now these are racially sensitive hair styles because you just won't let Kid Rocker have his five foot long white stringy hair unrestrained. The health department has no problem telling the white druggie to restrain his hair, but if you have a person of color being asked to tie up that Medusa hairstyle, that is disrespectful to the minority. And it is therefore racist to ask them to comply with the rules whities do.
After you have endured the battle of the snakes, then there is the risk of you receiving a wrong order. The risk is usually 90% since LaQuisha understands that double checking your order means that she's looked outside of the bag and has concluded that whatever is inside is your problem. She's looked at the bag and its there. On the inside of the bag if you ordered something special, you are likely not going to get it made the way you want. Old Snake Hair inside is going to make it special for you his way. And if he doesn't spit in it, you've been lucky. And if he's randy at night and its slow, he might give you some secret sauce while he's looking at his phone and watching some black chick shake her ass like she's at Sherwin Williams in the mixing room.
We all know that the sense of urgency at a drive thru window never applies to the ones assembling your order. That sense of urgency is yours, fool, the one who paid them to put your order together. They stare at you through the window when you dare to double check that the Big Mac is made with Big Mac sauce and not Big Mac's jerkoff sauce. You have to then make sure the fries are not only hot but are fully cooked and not pulled 2 minutes before they were supposed to be done. And you cannot even assume that the dark liquid you think you see from the top of the large size cup is in fact Coke that you ordered. It could be Diet Coke (almost like swallowing smoker semen). Or like Dr. Pepper. Like licking a stank snatch. Or, you can get like I have - Sweet Tea - somehow there is enough liquid in the cup to keep the crystals of sugar from reforming, but it is swill of the first order when you be wanting Coca Cola.
And then there is the gas you burn while waiting for Snake Hair incorporated to get through all the orders - all of the extra orders. I am one frugal motha fucka and I knows my gas mileage and work to achieve a standard of 45 mpgs per each tank. I do know that waiting at a drive thru is like pissing my gasoline away for nothing. And if my order is wrong I have to drive thru again (which I ain't gonna do) or I have to take the order inside to get it fixed (which you've made sure I can't do). So I'm paying for xyz and getting abc and a load of fresh Snake Hair cream if I dare to go out when its dark.
But what I ordered is not what I'll ever get.
No thank you. I'm making my shit at home. And at least my secret sauce tastes good.
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