Rob from Chambersburg, PA

Scene 1:
…Pulling up to the electro-fized, computer-ized McSquawk box. There is one car ahead of us, sitting at the box for a protracted period of time. At first I thought it was was of those dumb-@$$es we’ve all encountered who just can’t seem to get the hang of the drive-thru.Waiting. Waiting. The guy ahead of us just sits. He doesn’t talk to the box, or lean his head out, or attempt to read anything on it. He just…..sits.  We wait some more…..continue reading for this rest of Rob’s tale of BS.

Finally, he just pulls out and leaves. I chuckle to myself–’this dufus musta thought it was supposed to read his mind.’  With that, I wish him safe travels back into the primordial ooze from which he sprang.

Scene 2:
My turn at the squawk box.
I pull up, roll down the window, and wait. …and wait, and wait, and wait.  There are now 6 cars stacked behind me. Finally, I hear a voice requesting me to ‘please wait.’
A moment later, 3 of the drivers behind me throw in the towel, and squeal away. I wait. …and wait, and wait, and wait. The remaining cars leave, as well. We sit all alone at the squawk box. Eerie, indeed. FINALLY, a voice appears on the box: “I’m sorry about the wait. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Moment?? Moment!?!?! What the hell does that mean?! I’m the only one left out here!! What could POSSIBLY be going on in there, causing me to forfeit this time in my life?!?!?!  Little did I know, I was about to find out. I was in for a bout with unimaginable idiocy.

In the mean time, I have some time to reflect. My inner dialog offers up an apology to the guy ahead of me; ‘sorry dude–I assumed…it all makes so much sense now.’ ….still waiting for the mystic-food-order-taker thingie to come to back life, and offer up wisdom. And a F#@&ing hamburger or two.

A while later,  I hear the familiar crackle, and ‘Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?’  At this juncture, I did not know it was a trick question. I should have thought a lot more carefully before giving my answer:
 ’uh, ok…I’d like a double hamburger, w/extra onion, no mustard….and a double cheese burger w/extra onion.’ We wanted a couple other amazingly complex items, like fries and apple pies, but never got that far. Perhaps another day. <sigh>

The screen on the squawk box starts displaying my order. Incorrectly. Fancy that.
I interject….’no, no, no….I wanted….’ [repeating the burger part of the order.] This interplay lasts about 6 exchanges. I’m apoplectic. I utter some expletives under my breath, and toss in some personal epithets for good measure. Meg wants to help, but I don’t let her, ’cause she’s not allowed to talk like that.

Meg suggests we just forget it and leave. No way. Not me. I’ve never experienced anything quite this dumb before. The curious child within wants to see how this plays out. This is such a special kinda stupid, I just hafta see what happens next.

So, like the cars before us, I just pull away from the squawk box with the RainWoman still bleating my order back to me (I’m certain, incorrectly), and pull right up to the delivery window get my god-damned hamburgers. There’s no way I’m letting Forrestina Gump get the best of me.

Scene 3:
…pulling up to the window. She opens the glass, and utters something I cannot comprehend.  It was definitely in some form of ‘dropped-out-of-school-in-the-6th-grade Americanese.’   I was expecting the ever ubiquitous teenager-with-a-bad-attitude, but it was a lady in her 40′s. This was for sure, a big surprise– I didn’t know you could be THIS stupid, and not ‘git yerself kilt’ by now.

Anyway, I don’t respond to the blather she just chirped on my lobes; I simply (emphasis)  re-state my order from the beginning. I manage to utter the 1st part of my order, when she abruptly closes the window. I can see her through the glass, punching buttons on the See-And-Say cash register, specially built for life-time minimum wagers. She’s also scratching her head.  I half-way expected her to lick the glass, like the other kids who ride the ‘short bus’ do.

The window opens again, and she asks about how I wanted the burgers. I repeat…again.  (you gotta be F#@&ing kidding me!)  She closes the window…again. She punches buttons on her See-And-Say…again. Scratches her head…again. This entire segment happens 4 times, with her occasionally heading into the kitchen to confer with the culinary staff.

A few minutes later, the window opens, and out comes my order. We pull into the parking lot to inspect the contents of the bag, as we were absolutely certain the order could not be right.
But…it was. Meg and I had a good belly-laugh about the order actually being correct.

The total time from pulling up to the squawk box, to biting my burger? 14 minutes.

Whilst waiting for this ordeal to conclude, I noticed several more cars pulling up to the squawk box, waiting, then leaving after getting no response from the burger oracle.
There really was no way they could have. ‘She’ was too busy scratching her head, fighting with the See-And-Say, and, I’m sure, wondering why her parents never tried swimming in the deep end of the gene pool.

Carl’s Jr on Lake Forest and 405 fwy
I go to fast food because I am in a hurry, that’s the “fast” part of fast food isn’t it? So I pull up to the squawk box and place my overly complicated order for a #4 with a diet coke and criss cut fries. Yes, I realize how difficult it must be to understand me when I speak slowly and pronounce my words carefully “a … number …. four ….. medium … DIET coke…..criss cut fried” – “that was a number 9 with a coke?” – NO…. a FOUR with a DIET coke! SIXT times I had to repeat the order, being very careful to make sure I was perfectly clear. I end up having to drive to the window to explain this tough order. I then repeat it while showing 4 fingers to the person in the window. She turns around and announces “numero quatro”. NO! I did not order a quatro, I ordered a freaking number FOUR from Carl’s Jr, freaking all-American hamburger joint for Christ’s sake!

Come on. Barely anyone in the entire store could understand basic English. All orders to all employees had to be given in Spanish. I don’t care who you hire to work in your busness so long as they meet some basic requirements:

1. They keep clean
2. They don’t screw up the orders
3. They are legal to work in the USA
4. They speak the native language

Having employees that ALSO speak Spanish is certainly a plus but English should be a requirement. I have called and complained multiple times as I can’t seem to stop eating those $6 burgers but my patience is running thin with increased errors in orders and having to deal with people that don’t speak a word of English.

So Car’s Jr, I call BS on yout!