Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Thursday, May 23, 2002 I have this rule about not being rude to people who have access to my food while it's being prepared. It's just common sense. You piss someone off, and who knows how many of their bodily secretions you could be ingesting moments later? Sometimes it's hard, though.
Like the time my wife Trash and I hit the drive-thru on the way to work one morning. I won't tell you the name of the restaurant, because I'm discreet like that.
Anyway, I order us two Egg McMuffins. That's it. But from the reaction of the person at the other end of the speaker, I might as well have been in an airport control tower trying to convey DC-10 landing instrctions to a quadriplegic platypus with severe brain damage.
She "repeated" the order back to me.
"Bacon Egg & Cheese Biscuit?"
"No," I said patiently. "Two Egg McMuffins."
"Hash browns and orange juice?"
"Actually," I clarified, "that's two Egg McMuffins."
This exchange went back and forth, with me consistently repeating the phrase "Two Egg McMuffins," while she tirelessly came back at me with every other permutation of breakfast food she could think of.
Finally, I managed to get across the concept of an Egg McMuffin.
"One Egg McMuffin?" she asked.
Dear God, we're still not there.
"No," I kindly explained, "two Egg McMuffins."
"Egg McMuffin and what?" she asked.
I understood I would have to tread carefully here, or I would end up with a pair of Loogie McMuffins.
"Egg McMuffin," I said slowly, "and...another Egg McMuffin."
Silence. It was all or nothing. I screwed my courage to the sticking place and added:
"For a grand total of...two Egg McMuffins."
The speaker crackled softly. I listened to it. Time passed. Cars lined up behind us. The sun climbed higher into the sky.
"Sausage?" she asked. I took a deep breath and tried again.
I sent Trash to get a can of gas so I could keep idling. The sun set. Public officials served out their terms. The coasts flooded. Glaciers covered the parking lot, then receded. The sun became a dark red cinder.
Finally, I heard the words that had become the apotheosis of my very existence:
"$3.19, please pull forward."
Trash retrieved my eyeballs after they rolled all the way into the back seat, and I did so.
There was some drool on our sandwiches, but I don't think it was put there maliciously. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. posted by M. Giant 3:33 PM 0 comments