Open Letter to McDonald’s

Last night, in a moment of weakness, I actually stopped by one of your “restaurants” and ordered some “food”. The cashier automatically super-sized my meal as I expected (you have to argue with them if you want normal size) which is why I ordered a small burger instead of a quarter pounder. She told me to go to the second window, called me back to the first one, then gave me $3 in change from a twenty. I tried to recall her to the window, but when I couldn’t get anyone’s attention I drove to the second window, waited for my “fast” food to be ready, then informed cashier #2 that #1 made an error and showed him the three bills I hadn’t pocketed. He asked for my receipt (which was in the bag he held), then informed the manager. She questioned #1, who refused to admit she may have made a mistake and instead loudly insisted she gave me $13. The manager asked that I pull aside and wait for her to count down the register. I waited for a while, but decided the odds of me getting my $10 were pretty low (IF the register is over by exactly $10 AND the Mcfucktard can count AND #1 made an honest mistake and didn’t pocket the money AND they own up to it…) and my food was getting cold, so I left. When I got home I discovered I paid $17 for the wrong “Extra Value Meal”, one that came with a double quarter pounder and an apple pie-like substance. I’d share the details from my receipt, but your Mcmorons kept it. As an added bonus, I lost a half-day’s pay this morning because your meal broke my three day healthy streak and forced me to spend the morning on the toilet sharting my brains out.

So, I got screwed royally and you have no system in place for satisfying customers except for a complaint form on your web site, which has as yet gone unanswered, so I’m forced to think about what would be a measured response to this grievance. My initial thought is to burn the restaurant down with all employees locked inside except for the cute little manager. I should follow her home, anally rape her to death, use her credit card to order gay porn for her bosses, family, and religious leaders, flush a bag of cement down her toilet, shit on her cats, dump canned salmon into the heating vents, and lock myself out of her home after putting “Achy-Breaky Heart” on her stereo at ear-splitting levels. It’s just my initial response – I’m sure if I put some thought into it, I could come up with something mean.

On second thought, I’ve decided to view this as a positive experience. I keep telling myself that between the bad food, high prices (even without having an additional $10 stolen, the cost was equivalent to lunch at a local Asian restaurant), and surly staff, there is never any reason to visit a “fast food restaurant” except to remind myself that there is never any reason to visit a “fast food restaurant”. So now I’m taking a solemn vow to never give another penny to any of those establishments. If I’m hungry and have nothing at home, I’ll either go to a real restaurant or grab a frozen dinner from a supermarket. Or make popcorn or miso soup. Fast food can go fuck itself.

PS – the fries were tasty.

PPS – Mcfuckers.