The Second Day of Christmas

On the second day of Christmas.......yada yada....There’s PMS and then there’s Advanced PMS. I am to the peril of every living organism in the universe in the midst of advanced PMS. For example a simple trip to a McDonald’s drive-thru would, on a non-PMS day be a benign, short, uneventful journey. Not today. First, I don’t like McDonald’s food (if that’s what you want to call it). Second, I have children who do and who were impatiently awaiting my arrival home. And third it’s December and it's the only place I could find a Large Chocolate shake. Okay, you may ask, but how badly could ordering a couple of meals and a shake go? Badly, very badly. I am for the most part calm, congenial, respectful and polite, except while I’m PMSing. There’s a whole different kind of woman who takes over and she’s scary. Think Nurse Rachit. Usually when there’s been a miscommunication about what I’ve ordered, I’ll politely restate my order and everything goes okey dokey. Not Today. First, there was line at the drive-thru to make one believe they were giving away free Big Macs. I guess we didn't eat enough artery clogging food the last two days. Then when I finally get up to place my order, I get the order taker from Hell. I knew this was going to go badly just by the tone of her voice (it sounded as though one had taken their very long nails to a blackboard). Usually when I drive up I hear a very happy teenager quoting “Good Afternoon and Welcome to McDonald’s may I take you order please”. It’s not that she didn’t say it, it’s just the way she said it, sounding more like “Welcome to this sh*t hole, where they pay me piss for having to smile all day (because there’s a guy in the back with a lead pipe waiting to beat me about the face if I don’t) what the f*ck do you want and be snappy about it”. Oh and to top it off, her English left something to be desired. I paused a moment and thought “Find a happy place”, “Find a happy place”. But you know what? There was just no happy place to be found. So, I ordered, the last two orders being a chicken nugget meal and a chicken nugget Happy Meal. “I’d like chocolate milk with both those meals”. Her reply “You can’t have chocolate milk with the chicken nugget meal”. Now I’ve bought these meals before and know damn well I can have whatever drink I like. “Um M’am you can’t have a chocolate milk with the chicken nugget meal, only with the Happy Meal”. Big mistake – DO NOT CALL ME M’AM, it makes me feel OLD and it also brings out Nurse Rachit. Nurse Rachit took over and decided to deal with the pimply faced darling. LISTEN TO ME YOU PIMPLY FACED LITTLE SH*T, YOU DON’T GET PAID ENOUGH TO TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT HAVE WITH MY ORDER BECAUSE I AM PAYING FOR IT. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE LITTLE SAYING THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT! I ORDERED CHOCOLATE MILK AND BY GOD YOU WILL GIVE ME THE CHOCOLATE MILK WITH MY ORDER DO YOU UNDERSTAND? After a small pause she came back to the speaker that will be $20.12, next window please. With Nurse Rachit safely tucked away just under the surface I drove ahead to the next window and I handed off my hard earned money and took the drinks “okay my two chocolate milks, one shake, and a coke, ok”. Then the server handed me the bags of questionable food. “Okay, uh-uh, oh”. “Um there’s a mistake, where’s the Happy meal”? The server quizzically looked at me. “You didn’t order a Happy Meal”. Nurse Rachit burst back up through the surface. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDN’T ORDER A BLOODY HAPPY MEAL? FOR CHRIST SAKE, I JUST SPENT THE BETTER PART OF TEN MINUTES ARGUING WITH ACNE VULGARIS OVER THERE AT THE ORDER WINDOW ABOUT STUPID CHOCOLATE MILK. The server replied, “Well M’am, if you would check your receipt, you will see YOU didn’t order a Happy Meal”. Nurse Rachit bellowed, WELL, IF YOU WOULD JUST HIRE PEOPLE WHO SPOKE ENGLISH YOU WOULD SEE LESS MISTAKES WITH ORDERS. I WANT MY BLOODY HAPPY MEAL! Said the server, “Ok, ok M’am just pull up ahead and we’ll be right out with your Happy Meal”. My blood pressure was now dangerously high, and although that unsightly distended neck vein was quite visible I moved up and waited. Five minutes later another pimply faced teenager appeared with my coveted Happy Meal and a smile so bright I needed sunglasses. “Just so you know we gave you an extra toy with your Happy Meal, we’re sorry for the inconvenience”. And without missing a beat. “That’ll be $4.06. My jaw hit the floor. So I did what any mature Forty-something adult would do, I handed him a $5 and told him to choke on the change and sped off.