The Trials and Tribulations of Working at McDonalds

Everyone warned me that working at McDonalds was a high stress job. My ego though was entirely too big for my britches as my mother would say. Even with 154 college credit hours, enough for a bachelor's degree, and an associate's degree as a paralegal, I still was not prepared for the life as a fast food employee. Three weeks have now since past. One would think a person would get the hang of things by then. I still contemplate walking out each day though. It requires a certain love of the public, extreme quickness, and plenty of patience to endure this job. I seem to be lacking in all three areas, especially the speed department.

I surely assumed since I spend half of my life in a manic state I would fit right in. NOT! In my manic excitement, I hand out numerous wrong orders from the drive through window with a smile and respond, "Thank you. Come back to see us now." And they do. This in turn causes a situation to develop where an angry customer or two decide to back there ass up instead of walking into the store to complain to the manager as they should. Once again, I have caused a backlog at drive through. I think to myself, "Please someone just go ahead and get the torture over with. Fire me already." However, I continue in my plight to force a smile, fight back the tears, and ignore the disrespecting customers who receive their damn order right. They have no idea how grateful they should be if they actually get what they ordered.

"Hello, how are you?" I say.

They look straight ahead with an evil look upon their face. I think to myself, "Ok, you must be having a bad day. I know how that feels."

"Here is your order. Would you like any salt or ketchup to go with your fries?" I hear not a word. Total silence ensues and I stand there looking like an idiot. Their hand shoots straight out to the side and tries to yank the bag out of my hand and I hang on to it making them tug because at this point I am feeling a little hurt. I mean how damn hard is it to say hello I wonder. I am a person too, with real feelings and physical pain whose feet is throbbing and back is breaking from bending over and handing them their food because they parked too far away from the window.

Oh, but wait, they back up almost hitting the poor fool who thought it was their turn and complain, "I ordered my Big Mac on a bun with no sesame seeds, no cheese, extra sauce, extra lettuce, and plus a tomato. This bun has seeds on it. I just cannot eat it this way."

"Ok sir/ms., let me fix that for you. Can you pull up to the line and I will bring it right out?"

"FORGET IT! I swear I am never coming back to this place!" they huff. Suddenly squealing tires are heard and the manager peers over at me about the time I shout, "Good, go to Burger King! They make it your way!" Oops. Did I say that out loud? However, I did not make the sandwich nor did I take the order yet I must endure the abuse doled out. I believe this maybe some kind of initiation ritual.

"Yeah, let's put the new woman on the window. She looks unstable as hell. I bet twenty dollars she will run out today crying for her momma." Someone came close to winning their money too.

Yes, my job is to merely make the drinks and present the food to our wonderful paying customers who are always right. Man, I cannot count how many people have ripped us off because they were right when all hell was breaking loose. The manager shouts at us, "You are over 400 seconds. My God, do you have both thumbs up your asses? Just give them whatever the hell they want and get the line moving!"

Back to my job, which is to work the AUTOMATED drink machine and hand the customers their food. This sounds simple enough. Yeah, that is what I thought too. This machine spits out drinks for about ten orders at a time. I however can only see five orders at a time, only have room for three orders at a time at my station, and as far as I am concerned really do not care about car number five thousand and one's drink because I can only hand out one at a time. All the while I am suppose to be keeping up with this spastic machine by slapping caps on the cups and removing them so it can continue to make what has been ordered. If I stop to hand out food and drinks, which during a rush I pray the person making the orders has put them in the right sequence because the drink machine seems to spit the drinks out at random, and get behind the machine stops and the alarm goes off. Oh, it is a horrible, shrilling noise. Then everyone starts yelling, "Shut off the alarm." In my panic-stricken state I cannot find the button, the people want their food, and the manager is asking what is taking so long. At this point, I feel like falling in the floor and crying. I can only do one thing at a time damn it. I do not know where everyone else hides their other four arms that allow them to do ten things at once but I have not grown my yet.

Now as far as I am concerned whoever came up with the idea that sweet tea should be served at McDonalds should be slapped. First, it does not come out of the automated fountain but the fountain does drop the large, Styrofoam cup and fill it with ice, which we then have to fill from our tea pitchers. Well you should know everyone and all their cousins that live in town want a large, 48-ounce, dollar Mickey D's sweet tea and we of course run out all the freaking time. Therefore, we have to stop the line, yell for more tea, which no one has time to make because they too are swamped, and run to the freaking lobby to fill their cups. Yes, the line clogs up like someone who loves cheese too much. In addition, whom do you think they blame? Yes, you would be right if you guessed me. All I can do is bite my lip and shake my head when they start yelling, "My times are going over!" I want to scream, "That's it! I'm leaving!"

I will end with a powerful plea. Please be kind, say hello, order from the menu, and understand that the tea has to come from the lobby at times. I can assure you that everyone strives as team to make sure you arrive back to work on time from your lunch break and beat that damn ninety second clock. In addition, I apologize in advance if your order was wrong and ESPECIALLY if anyone working there was ever rude to you. I know I have been pissed many times but I have always mustered up a smile and been pleasant. I simply feel that is what I am paid for and the way it should be. Now excuse me while I smoke my pack of cigarettes for the day. I am way behind count. That is another thing, I only get one, thirty....Oh hell. I will save that gripe for another day. I hope you have had a great one.