Webner House

Today I made a colossal blunder — one of those extraordinary, life-altering misjudgments that can affect the course of human events for generations.

I was driving from work to visit my mother.  It was about 12:30, and I hadn’t eaten anything all day.  The route to Mom’s place takes me past a McDonald’s.  So, even though I normally don’t eat at McDs, I thought I would go through the drive-thru, get a sandwich, and continue on my way.

That was the first mistake.

At the drive-thru, they were advertising the new Quarter Pounder “flavors.”  I decide to take a shot at the Quarter Pounder with bacon and cheese.  I carefully instructed the order taker that I did not want pickles.  Then I drove on. That was the second mistake.

I paid the pleasant young lady at the money-taking window, then pulled up to get my order.  The pleasant young lady at the food delivery window regretfully advised me that my sandwich wouldn’t be ready right away, so I should pull up into a waiting spot to get out of the lane of traffic while my sandwich was prepared.  I did so, reasoning that this meant that my sandwich was more likely to be served piping hot and properly cooked.  That was the third mistake.

I think I waited in the special parking space for about five minutes.  I can’t say for sure, because your sense of time becomes horribly warped as you wait in a special parking spot for “fast food.”  It could just as easily have been a century.  I think I had to clip my fingernails twice as I waited, to prevent them from growing into claws.  Finally a pleasant young lady came out and handed me a bag with a cheery smile, and I drove off.

As I looked in the bag, I saw that they gave me french fries, which I didn’t order.  In addition, the bacon cheese Quarter Pounder included pickles, even though the order slip taped to the box said, explicitly, “no pickles.”  I shrugged, removed the pickles, and bit into the sandwich.  That was the final mistake.

The cold cheese that had once been melted and now was welded to the inside bottom of the box which should have been a clue.  The sandwich was, at best, lukewarm.  It clearly had been sitting for some time before it was brought to my car.  The beef — well, let’s call it animal product to be on the safe side — had been cooked to the consistency of shoe leather and was absolutely, completely tasteless.  The “bacon” could not be cut by human teeth.  It was, without question, the worst sandwich I’ve ever tried to eat.  I was hungry, but I just couldn’t finish it.  I ended up kicking myself for going to McDonald’s in the first place.  What did I expect?  The food there just sucks, and its only commendable quality is that it is fast.  If you have to wait for it, as I did, it has no redeeming characteristics whatsoever.

It’s taken me 56 years, but after today I think I’ve learned my lesson.  I hereby solemnly swear that I will never go to a McDonald’s for food again.  Golden Arches, you’ve had your chance, and you’ve blown it.  Never again!

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