McDonald’s

First, what Pablo’s review said, ditto!
When chicken mcnuggets are more grey than golden brown, it gives me pause. Yet that was the least of my concerns.
The young lady waiting on me had the personality of a mildewed dish rag. No smile, no concern, barely a pulse. She could not have worked slower had she been blindfolded.
The manager on duty came over to help speed things up, a middle-​aged woman speaking in hip-​hop gangsta lingo that I couldn’t decipher.
Then lo and behold, the next customer was the same race as the two of them, and they both smiled, were cheerful, happy, kind, etc. I treat every race and culture the same. I don’t save kindness and a friendly, courteous demeanor for only those who are my same race.

Somehow I fell back assward into 1977 at this Micky D’s same air, food and coffee… I remember why I don’t eat McD’s…
Guuuh…

What can I say that everyone else hasn’t already. I’ve had better and if you want better, go somewhere else.

It’s McDonald’s… with ATTITUDE!!!
This joint displays its testicular fortitude from the get-​go. Nastiness over the speaker, demanding that you call the sandwiches «McDoubles» now instead of Double Cheeseburgers. Complete silence and a snarl when you pay. Then, when you get to the food window, the employees show you what’s up by screaming at each other for 15 minutes (with the little window open) while you sit helpless waiting for your food. And don’t dare divert your attention, because if you aren’t ready when a bag comes flying out the window, you know that shit’s hitting the ground.
They finish shoving the metaphorical thorny 12-​inch dildo up your ass by giving you an order of cold rubbery fries prepared sometime during the Clinton administration that only half-​way fill the little container, a Snack Wrap with extra lettuce when you ordered it without, and a smaller-​than-​wanted Coke that syrup forgot to enrich.
You’ll really want to take all that shit back and return it, because you got just ripped off faster than the arms on a meathead’s new t-​shirt. You know they might get things right the second time, but they’d be swapping that snack wrap lettuce for some nice, chunky phlegm, courtesy of the cooking staff.
Don’t ask for a refund, though. You might get knifed.