Monday, February 07, 2005

I Feel Pissy, Oh So Pissy...

Those of you who read this blog regularly know that many things make me upset. I am an emotionally unstable person whose rage can be set off with the most innocuous comment. I admit this myself. I must say that I can be quite trigger-happy with the mood swings, but at the end of the day, the world has no one to blame for pissing me off then themselves.

Take for example the little man at McDonald's at Terminal C of Washington Dulles airport. He is looking to piss me off. He is looking for me to break his neck in half and suck the bone marrow out of his scrawny little throat. You see, some of you who regularly read this blog probably think that I flaked out again during the past 10 days and didn't blog. But the truth is that I was actually in France after being told that my grandfather, who had been fighting prostate cancer for four years, only had a few days to live. I bought a ticket for the next day and hoped I would make it there in time to say goodbye. Although this isn't funny in any way and I'm sorry to be a downer, I didn't make it in time.

So anyway, the point of the story is that I'm pregnant, therefore even more volatile than usual. My grandfather has just passed away. I'm sleep deprived and jet lagged because the last 10 days have just been horrid. And I've just spent a 7 hour flight in the middle seat of a Boeing 777, a.k.a. with two people on each side of me, the two surrounding me not understanding the concept of personal space and constantly attacking the armrests with their elbows, purses, un-shoed feet, etc.

In other words, enough to cause anyone to sob.

So I get to Washington and I have a two-hour wait before my flight home. And all I want is a happy meal with a small coke, despite the fact that I know that it's not good for my baby. I figure many of my friends with children had a coke a day habit and all of their babies turned out ok, so what's one child sized coke once in nine months, right? So I stand in line at Mickey D's for 10 minutes and when it gets to be my turn, I place this very simple order: a hamburger happy meal, no pickles, with a coke and a toddler toy (so that I can have toys for when baby is born) with an order of the apple dippers. I'm charged $4.93 for this, which I have no problems with paying. This is what I get. A coke, a hamburger and apple dippers. I tell the man who speaks no English that this isn't right, that I'm missing my fries. He tells me "you get apple dippers." I tell him that I wanted the apple dippers as a dessert, not as my side, that I ordered them on top of the happy meal. He tells me that I didn't pay for them.

At this point, I'm beyond pissed. A happy meal is $2.99. You charge me $4.93 and tell me that I didn't pay for my freaking apple dippers???? Little man tells me that was for the coke. BUT A COKE COMES WITH IT I reply at this point beyond a whole new level of rage. Oh, he answers, I thought you ordered coke on top of happy meal.

WHO THE HELL DOES THAT I think to myself? Who the hell orders a meal and then asks for an extra coke? This especially doesn't make sense when I wasn't served my kid-sized coke to start with. He finally relents and gives me my fries, telling me again that I didn't pay for them. Basically accusing me of robbing him of this kid-sized order of fries that probably costs all of 10 cents to make in front of all of the other customers. At this point, visions of giving birth to my child in a maximum security prison are dancing in my head.

I finally walk away, fries and apple dippers firmly in my grip. I won, I think to myself. I actually got pissed and won.

Alas, the joke was on me, because I walked 15 minutes to my next gate and sat down to enjoy my puny meal. As I uncover the hamburger, I discover that my no pickle request was not understood and a nasty ass pickle is smiling at me, mocking me and my mounting nausea.

After disgustingly throwing the pickle across the terminal and thereby taking out an innocent elderly lady sitting at another gate with the sheer violence of the flick of my wrist, I ate my burger embedded with pickle juice. I inhale my fries, which weren't cooked enough might I add, I guess when you're robbing people of French fries, they don't have time to finish the cooking process. They were however coated with enough salt for me to start my own mine.

I then turn to my apple dippers and realize that I only have... an apple. No freaking dip. Who the hell buys an apple dipper for the apple???? I buy it for the caramel that adds absolutely no nutritional value to the meal.

To add insult to injury, I didn't even get a toy with my kids' meal. That's right. No dipper, no toy. I was punished severely by some foreign man who can't speak enough English to take an order at McDonald's at one of the largest US airports for getting pissy.

Enough to say I'm writing a letter to McDonald's. I'm not even kidding about this. I really am. That man has pissed off the wrong person in the wrong state of pissiness. He must be punished.

Love,

Catwoman.

1 comment:

MartiniGal said...

Funny... Gone for 10 days and still two posts in a row about how fast food hates you. Interesting.