One More Cup Of Coffee: McDonald’s

“Three hundred and eighty-five seconds for that,” a McDonald’s worker tells her trainee, slamming the microwave door shut. The chatter behind the counter is constant, tense, confused. “Don’t make that double order,” I hear someone shout. “Corporate is watching us!” a manager warns. Two workers make a judgement call on what might be my breakfast: “Would you eat that egg?”

An old guy stands by the counter, waiting with his wife for their order. They get their food from a harried 18-year old. The man asks for syrup. There are five or eight people behind the counter, but he somehow doesn’t get a response or syrup. He asks again. He asks nine more times. He can see the syrup packets behind the counter. “They’re right there,” he says, pointing.

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