McWTF?

If you have to give someone a hard time about their food order, make it be the lady who’s asking you to weave a mat of fries to sit atop her double-pattied, half-ketchupped, quad-mayoed, double top-bunned bacon cheddar chicken sandwich with honey and pickles on the side.

Apparently not wanting “ranch sauce” on my McDonald’s food warranted a call to a manager because, I don’t know, only fucking terrorists hate drippy white chemicals on their McSnackWraps™©®. No, I don’t want it on the side. The only “side” it should be on is outSIDE of my bag. Ten minutes later, we got it all straightened out, and I got the McEquivalent of a chicken taco from Taco Bell.

Lesson learned. Drive the extra mile. Run for the border. The McRisk isn’t worth it. For the record:  not lovin’ it.

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Revenge of the Avocado Fondler

If you have to work at a self-service checkout at a grocery store, realize that people go to those lanes because they want to do it themselves.

A few months ago, I was buying a bunch of produce at the self-checkout lane (like one of the big ones with the conveyor belt). And don’t get all worked up; there was no one behind me. …Tomatoes, check. Cilantro, check. Avocados, check… When my poor, defenseless avocados got to the end of the conveyor belt, the self-checkout attendant COMES OVER AND STARTS SQUEEZING MY AVOCADOS (not a euphemism). Holy mother trucking what the effing oh my goodness. She puts my bag of avocados in a grocery bag and then starts reaching for my tomatoes. “I’ve got it, thanks,” I say, firmly (like how my avocados were before she started screwing with them). She laughs (wtf?) and puts my tomatoes in the bag as well. I rush through scanning and/or weighing the rest of my groceries, and this dumb hooker has all of my stuff in bags at the end of the belt. I’m so angry, I almost punch her. She reaches for one of the bags to put it in my cart (shouldn’t she be harassing someone else by this point?!), and I say, “No, thank you. Please don’t do that.” I load my cart and gtfo as quickly as possible.

That was a few months ago. I had forgotten what this bitch looked like.

Saturday morning around 7:30 AM, I’m back at the same store. I start scanning cans of Chef Boyardee. THIS DUMB EFFING FOOD MOLESTER STARTS GRABBING MY CANS (again, not a euphemism). I am SO FAR BEYOND pissed, I just say, “No. Don’t.” And then? …And then I walk down there and just start bagging stuff myself. It literally took five times as long to get my groceries… Scan, scan, scan, bag. Scan, scan, scan, bag. The stupid b didn’t get near my avocados this time. Score.

Lesson learned:  only buy 12 items or less and use the tiny self-checkout stand instead of the lane.