I feel as though I need to apologize to Ken from McDonald's. Two nights ago at 10 PM, I stopped in the drive through at the Marshall, Michigan Mickie D's (1260 W. Michigan Ave, Marshall, MI). I was impressed upon pulling in. It is a two-station drive through. Naturally, I chose the wrong one. I waited for five minutes for the woman to come on and take my order. She looked out the window at me. I could see her lips moving, but couldn't hear her talking. I waited. And I waited. I waited some more.
Finally I just pulled up to the window. She said, "that will be $4.58, please." "But I didn't order anything," I explained, "I've been sitting in the drive through for five minutes waiting to order something, but nobody wants to talk to me." "Wait a minute," she said as she slammed the window on me. I waited. And I waited some more.
I pulled away from the window (rather quickly), and went inside. Beverly met me at the counter and, after about a five minute wait for the two other gentlemen standing at the counter, she took my order. After buying burgers I was asked, "can I get you anything else?" "I would like to speak to the manager, please," I said. She turned and said, "Ken, this gentlemen needs to talk to you." "He'll need to wait."
When Ken finally stopped by to speak with me, admittedly, I was pretty hacked off. "The reason for a drive-through, Ken, is so I don't have to come inside and get my food. I waited for five minutes without ordering my food before coming inside, and when I got inside I waited another five minutes. That's not acceptable." Ken said, "How does that give you the right to yell at my drive-through staff?" Huh? "I did not yell," I told Ken. "But you gave her an attitude," he replied. "If rolling up my window and pulling away is giving her attitude then, yes, I am guilty."
"Well, we don't have to tolerate it," Ken said.
At this point I began getting pretty upset, and this is the part I need to apologize for. "You know, Ken," I said, "I worked in food service, and whenever we messed up, we simply apologized and tried to make it right." Blank stare. Then, "So what do you want me to do about it?" "Maybe I need to go to Burger King," I said. "Maybe you do," he replied.
"You know, Ken," I said, "I hope you like working a minimum wage job, because I suspect you're going to be at it awhile." (That's the part where I crossed the line, I think.)
Ken spun around on his heel and walked away. Beverly handed me my food and said sweetly, "I'm really sorry about that." "Thanks, Beverly." I think she was the only one who got it.
Maybe it was because it was so late, or maybe it was because I'm tired of all the holiday hoopla, but I didn't handle that as well as I could have . . .