So I round Point of the Mountain and head into Utah Valley. I start realizing that I need caffeine. I need my Dr. Pepper fix. And I'm a little hungry. Mind you, I'm not a foodie. I eat to survive more than enjoyment. I want to eat and get about other things. So. McDonald's, of course. Right across from Lehi Roller Mills.
As I placed my order for a double cheeseburger and large soda (Yes, I call it soda. It's a carry over from my mission days in New England.), the 20 something girl then asks, "What's your name?" I didn't know how to answer that. What kind of question is that in a McDonald's? "Excuse me?" "What is your name?" she repeats. Scenarios play out in my mind. Why is this woman asking for my name? This stop for energy has suddenly become a bit more familiar than I cared for it to be. Is she going to try to sell me something? Am I going to undergo a religious spiel? No, I don't wear my ring and a woman that age certainly wouldn't be striking up a conversation with me for that reason. Goll, that was an arrogant thought. So, I squint up my eyes and slowly respond. "Why?" This isn't a quick "Why?" but a more drawn out "Wwwwhhhhyyyyy?"
"For the order."
Okay. That's different. That's not how they do things in the impersonal midwest. I can do this. So I give my name and in short order, receive my barely edible food. Once again my world is restored and the evil caffeine is circulating through my system, bringing life again to your humble correspondent.
That was my introduction to fast food places using my name. I've gotten a bit more comfortable with it but not a whole lot.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to a fast food place that I frequented a few years ago and also when Tracy and I first moved to Illinois. Things have changed a bit there. For example, this is where we used to shop.
Not much going on there now, is there? Anyway, as I was eating the taco that took 20 minutes to make for whatever reason, I overheard the guy at the register retell his experience applying there.
"Yeah, when I came in and applied, there was only one person working at the whole place. Now that I'm working here, I'm the second person. Since this is my first day, it is actually worse than having only one person here."
I must admit, I enjoyed the candor of the guy. He was all smiles and trying to make a good impression on the customers.
As I went there today, there was a woman ahead of me that seemed to be confounded by drink sizes and only 3 or 4 other people in the dining area. One gentleman was at the drink station trying to figure out which of the 5 options to choose. The afore mentioned worker came out from the prep area with a tray of food, set it on the counter and spoke out the items loud enough so the patrons could hear him. No response or movement from anyone. There was some uncomfortable looking back and forth between us and he again yelled out the order. Again, no movement. When he looked at me fairly exasperated, as it was a busy day at the drive through, I pointed tentatively towards the guy still trying to figure out the mystical powers of Pepsi vs. Diet Pepsi. The worker looked at me again, rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath as he went back to the prep area. What followed was a great lesson in why they ask for your name. The worker returned and announced in a commanding bellow, "Hey Mike! Your food's getting cold, man!"
That was enough to rouse the drink whisperer out of his coma and he took his tray and took a seat.
That was highly enjoyable. I hope I told it well.
No comments:
Post a Comment