Every morning, I drive through my friendly, neighborhood (emphasis on the 'hood) McDonald's for a large Diet Coke. Each and every morning, there is a cheerful cash register attendant working the window, who by now, recognizes me each time - replete in my blue fleece and pre-Diet Coke scowl, riding in the burgundy-mobile. When he hands me my Diet Coke, my face must relax or something because he is always giggling as I drive away. That, or I have some huge booger hanging from my nose. But I digress. Back to the story.
Every so often, a truck drops off supplies, buns, happy meal toys, etc. Unfortunately it unloads in the mornings, and parks in the drive-thru, making the hostile suggestion that I actually disembark and go INTO the store to purchase my morning cocktail. How dare they?! One day several weeks ago, I noticed the shift board for the drive-thru sitting by the fry machine. I was bored in line, and tired of staring blankly ahead, so I started peering around the corners of the kitchen workspace. Turns out that my Diet Coke Adonis' name is Chris.
Armed with the knowledge of Drive Thru Guy's identity, I am now paralyzed by tension each and every morning. I'm so afraid that I'm going to slip, and say, "Thanks, Chris!" one day upon receipt of my cold, bubbly goodness. What would he think then, I ask you? HE WOULD THINK I'M SOME SORT OF SADISTIC, CERTIFIABLE, MCDONALD'S STALKER! This single worry has completely ruined my unabashed, unconditional love of all things McDonald's.
Ignorance is bliss.
Every so often, a truck drops off supplies, buns, happy meal toys, etc. Unfortunately it unloads in the mornings, and parks in the drive-thru, making the hostile suggestion that I actually disembark and go INTO the store to purchase my morning cocktail. How dare they?! One day several weeks ago, I noticed the shift board for the drive-thru sitting by the fry machine. I was bored in line, and tired of staring blankly ahead, so I started peering around the corners of the kitchen workspace. Turns out that my Diet Coke Adonis' name is Chris.
Armed with the knowledge of Drive Thru Guy's identity, I am now paralyzed by tension each and every morning. I'm so afraid that I'm going to slip, and say, "Thanks, Chris!" one day upon receipt of my cold, bubbly goodness. What would he think then, I ask you? HE WOULD THINK I'M SOME SORT OF SADISTIC, CERTIFIABLE, MCDONALD'S STALKER! This single worry has completely ruined my unabashed, unconditional love of all things McDonald's.
Ignorance is bliss.
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