“Welcome to McDonalds. Can I take your order?” Said the guy behind the speaker.
“Yes, I’ll take a #2 meal with a sprite. A 5-piece chicken strip meal with a water and a crispy chicken honey mustard wrap with a coke. That’s it. Thank you.” Said me.
“Would you like fries with the crispy chicken wrap?”
“So, you would like a #3 meal…”
“Um, no. Not a #3. A #2.”
“Oh. So you want a chicken wrap meal…”
“No, not a meal. Just the wrap and a coke, no fries.”
“Oh, sorry. So you want a 5-piece chicken strip meal with a water and a crispy chicken meal with a coke. Will that be all?”
“No, I also would like the #2 meal. With a sprite.”
(Am I being Punk’d? I looked around for Ashton Kutcher.)
“Oh ok. Your order comes to $15.74. Please drive up to window #1.”
Seriously, considering the ordering process didn’t go so well, we were only missing a coke. Like my New Year’s eve experience with bad ice, I should have known and just drove out of the parking lot. Why do I do this to myself? The signs were once again as strong as Popeye on 50 pounds of spinach.
I’m supposed to be on a diet anyway, right? It looks like that just got bumped back to March. Darn.