If
there ever was a week that offered more to "Ramble"
about this would have to be it. Let me tell you I had a lot of
vehicle problems this week, and the sad thing is it wasn't the
problems with the vehicles that torque me, it was dealing with
the "qualified" boneheads that were supposed to fix
em. What's even worse than that is the whole vehicle subject didn't
even make the cut, believe it or not. So my friends let me spin
you a yarn for a while and I hope you laugh at it as much as I
did (when it was over).
After
a long hard week my wife and I were running around town on Friday
afternoon, just trying to nail down some last minute details.
We decided we should eat, so after the long debate of who chose
what last (an event that takes place every dam time), I just went
with what I saw and chose McDonalds, what the hell it was right
in front of our face. Now I was kinda looking for an in and out
type place because we still had a lot to do. You know as well
as I do that the new McDonalds blows even worse than the old one.
By new and old I mean that now they make each order one at a time,
long gone are the days of the heat lamp and the prefab meal that
is expertly aged to get the most profit efficient meal. I don't
know about you, but to me that heat lamp flavor was the only thing
that kept the crap edible, now when you get it its so dam hot
that upon the first bit you burn your mouth so bad that you start
to serve and almost take out a family of four (I guess you didn't
learn from the coffee incident did you Ronald).
Anyway,
I'm getting off of the subject. I chose this huck'em and chuck'em
place because as we drove by I noticed 3 cars in the drive through
(a rare occurrence seeing as how all of the stores redid their
parking lots for maximum stackability and hate to see good money
go to waist). The wife and I having a really great day were talking,
laughing, and joking so we pulled in and took our place in the
cattle line.
As we got to
the squawk box we were talking about one thing or another when
the "highly trained" drive through voice sounded out,
"welcome to McDonalds may I help you" (in that I'd rather
be getting high with my worthless friends ton). My wife turned
and said, "can you hold on for a minute?", (now this
is where it gets good). The voice on the other end replied "if
I had something to hold on to, huh huh". The stupid laugh
at the end was what sent me over the edge. Lets just put it this
way the tone of his voice was a little more directed towards my
wife.
My
wife said excuse me at about the same time I did. I told her park
over there, pointing to a spot, but I just hoped out and went
inside (and I assure you this was no carefree stroll). I entered
the place and saw one of those blue shirt ex-salad station managers,
I said in a VERY dominating voice (not a yell, but there was no
mistake that I was there, to him or the whole place), "are
you the manager?", halfway through his yes I told him, "get
over here!". He moved like the wind, and before he could
get halfway down the front counter I turned to the little cubby
hole the drive through guy is. I boomed again, "are you the
guy that just said that to my wife?!".
Now let
me paint you a picture, because I sure as hell wish I had a camera.
This guy turned and while looking at me slowly pulled his little
microphone headset down off of his face. The look of pure fear
that was so elegantly captured in his eyes by the puke green glow
of his screen, just gave his 5'9", maybe 120 lb body a look
that seemed he was going to wither away right there. You see,
he couldn't see who was sitting next to the girl in the 4 runner
at the menu, but now that he was face to face with a 6'1",
300 lb, very big, very pissed off monster, his story changed.
He
turned and said (in the most wussy voice I have ever heard in
29 years), "I just said ok, whenever your ready", (too
late my little grasshopper), I said, booming louder "that's
bullshit, you told my wife , if you had something to hold on to".
At this point the manager hit my territory and jumped in between
me and this little punk (I should hope the kid blew him later,
that's the least he could do).
The
manager, oh man what a piece of work. He had to be of Arab decent
and his english got worse the closer he got to me (and maybe the
more he felt how hot I was). Rattling off some shit "sir,
sir, sir I understand and I will take care of this, I will deal
with him." Please add in an arabic accent, because as good
of a writer as I think I am, I'm not that good.
Right about
now is when my wife entered, she just said "that was really
rude and uncalled for." The manager was now sweating and
believe me that little asshole was so curled up into his little
nook, I think they had to pull his headset out of his ass, and
better than that; he never took his eyes off of me.
When
we left (assured the kid was long to be part of the Team), the
wife and I busted up. My wife laughed that she heard me all the
way outside. Then when I described the guy to her (in true yotamaster
style) she almost hyperventilated. It was great. I have been looking
for a victim for a long time and this idiot just stuck his head
right up there.
Do I need to kick his
ass? Hell no, my point is made because I can guarantee for at
least the next month he'll be constipated with whiplash from looking
over his shoulder.
