The other day I came across something from an old blog of mine. I recall this being written at something like one in the morning when I was coming out of a depressive swing into that mood that resembles something like mania. It’s horribly offensive, very tongue-in-cheek, rather rude and just a little bit hilarious.
Ladies and gentlement, I present to you, the epic tale that is the “Rant about the Meat Boy”.
Dear greasy McDonalds meat boy:
Bitch asked for pickles.
When I order a cheeseburger, specifically asking for MORE pickles than the shitty two pickles you get on a regular burger, I EXPECT MORE THAN TWO PICKLES. You insult the both of us with your vapid order-taking, but what’s more is that you take my order, but then fail to see it through to the end.
I clearly asked for LOTS of pickles. LOTS. Ie. the amount you presently have on your burgers does not satisfy me, ergo I want MORE than you’re offering!!!!!
Your cheesy grin and unkempt blonde hair, while amusing, does not make up for the gross misconduct you have achieved tonight. What point is there in customer service if you don’t even give me what I asked for? Jesus.
I didn’t specify that it had to be quick, clearly. After ten minutes of sitting in the drive through waiting for the stoner in the Commodore in front of me to get his munchies fix -which turned out to be a single, small bag rather than the ten I was hoping for- I then had to wait longer for you to get your beach-bum butt out of one booth and into the other. You suck balls.
I’m sure that when I pulled up at the drive through, by the sound of surprise in your voice, we had caught you fapping furiously to a semi-nude picture of Ronald ‘Nuggets’ McDonald that’s now standard issue when entering the McDon’t empire. You’re like the storm trooper of the chain, Meatboy. Can’t aim for your life, can’t work out how to use your comm. system properly and yes, those were the droids you were looking for.
All I asked for was to have more than two pickles on my burger. Why is that such a challenge? I know the pay at McDonalds sucks, but surely you’d be literate enough to count the coins you’re being sucked out of each payday and therefore know that MORE THAN TWO ACTUALLY MEANS >2!!!!
I used to have faith in you, Meatboy. Your acne and greasy hair, you awkward smile and constant awareness of bullies made me sigh in happiness, satisfied that my stereotypes were not yet gone from this rapidly changing world. The way you used to laugh awkwardly when I made polite conversation as you counted my change, the way you used to say “Have a nice day” in a way that, while I didn’t believe a word you said, made me feel content that all was right with the world. That even if my day was the worst ever, yours would still be worse, Meatboy.
Now, I don’t know what to believe.
Meatboy, you have betrayed me.