Allow me to set the scene. It was a Thursday afternoon in February, I was at my office lost in the stupidity of my work. I sit behind a desk all day and have no desire to step out of my comfortable and protective cubicle. That is, until the hunger takes me.
I began to sweat as I finished the latest in an unending slew of emails, written with the grammatical craftsmanship of a demented ADHD incensed ape, who then CC'd them to everyone and their mother.
I realized then that I hadn't eaten in nearly forty five minutes and my resolve was quickly fading. So, I got up with the assistance and coaching of my Emotional Support Dog "She-ra" and made my way to the elevator.
I waited, as the combination of She'ra, myself and any more than two others would max the lifts capacity. At last an empty car arrived and we got on taking the ride down to the ground floor. Stepping out into the brisk air, my nose caught the scent of glory! It was the McDonalds two blocks down. The side walks were treacherous, and the chill air mercilessly heckled the folds of my neck as I made my way across an ice slick over stuffed parking lot to my Buick.
I opened the drivers side door letting She-ra jump across to the passengers seat before getting in myself. The car started fast and strong as though it would receive heaven from the dollar menu. We were off, the golden arches rose like a bright new day over an otherwise grim reality.
The line at the drive thru was blessedly brief and I got to the order box trembling with hunger. "McDonalds what is your order?" I recognized Susan my favorite window jockey and responded with my usual; one Double Quarter Pounder and one Big Mac meal supersized. Now I know supersized doesn't exist anymore on paper, but god damn it I refuse to submit to health fascist! "First window..." Susan's voice trailed off and I pulled forward humming the Big Mac ingredients song. I was indeed loving it!
I came to the first window cash and change precise to my order. Susan asked me how I was and gave me my total. I was already handing it over with a smile and a nod, which she returned. I looked ahead, I was almost to the promised land. Pulling up to the pick up window I turned to get my greasy bag of beef and cheese... and was struck dumb founded.
"Here you are sir, have a nice day." The young man working the window smiled and his teeth were horrible, HORRIBLE! Yellowed and black speckled. His hair greasier than the bag he handed to me, and his breath... He looked like he hadn't bathed in a week. I just didn't get it. McDonalds hiring workers of questionable cleanliness and character? I took the bag without a word, put the car in drive, and pulled over to my usual eat spot, third space from the exit sign. But when I opened the bag, I saw that the McDonalds golden promise had fizzle to naught. For as the smell of the secret sauce and the feel of the essential oils from the fry boxes collect upon my lower chin, I could only recall the last hands that touched my meat.
With a heavy heart, I pulled away and drove to the red lid waste canister, dropping my lunch and my hope into oblivion; the dream was dead. I sat silently. She-ra tried to emotionally support me, but failed. I found the nearest thing I could for an alternative, a Dunkin Donuts. One dozen donuts later my hunger was satisfied, but my heart was still broken. In sorrow I vowed never to step below those arches again...and yet...I feel them calling me back...
