McDonald’s

This location is really phoning it in. All McDonalds are supposed to serve breakfast all day now, but they’ll claim they don’t serve it here. That’s fine; I could be mistaken about the rollout. But they also like to pull the old fast food worker trick of closing down drink machines early, and then telling customers they’re broken for the night.
I don’t get a correct order a lot of the time either, so I’m going to guess that these poor souls aren’t paid enough to care.

«This is America,» I shout to my stupid wife over the speaker phone. «And I will do as I damn well please.»
«I just don’t see the logic in eating one of everything from the dollar menu, Dale,» my ridiculous fool of a wife replies, slightly defeated.
«I don’t see the logic in buyin’ all that clothes and make-​up but I ain’t stopping you, Claire!» I hit the red phone doodle thing as hard as I can. Cracks the screen, actually. Doesn’t matter. Nothin’ is ruining ol’ Dale’s mood. Not tonight. For tonight, the Feast of the Dollars is upon us.
I roll up on the illuminated menu like a moth to flame. All my senses buzz as I drink in the many incredibly priced options. Finally, the intercom crackles to life.
«Welcome, how may I help you this evening?»
«I’ll take one of everything on your dollar menu, good sir,» I say, beaming. There is a long silence.
«…jeez, Dale. Again?» The condescension in these millennials is just infuriating.
«Yeah, chief. It’s the feast, kiddo. I’m a job creator!» The idiot probably doesn’t even know how economics work. It all trickles down, baby. I pull forward to the window and the pimply-​faced hormone wagon says some numbers and I laugh to show ‘em how little this means to me. I give him my credit card, which is declined, but it’s cool because ol’ Dale is never flyin’ without a Plan B. I write these dopey kids a check. Someday they’ll understand personal finance and checkbooks and look back and think about how prepared I was. Baller status, as the kids would say.
«Just pull forward. We’ll bring it out when it’s ready,» the kid sighs. I do pull forward, and as the anticipation grows, I know it’s time for the pre-​feast ritual. I pop in some Pantera and just start murdering the air guitar and air drums. Seriously, you guys, you’re lucky this isn’t a review for Pantera air guitar and air drums because your phone would melt out of your sweaty palms, bubba.
About halfway through «Cowboys From Hell» the food arrives and life just couldn’t be better. This is America, y’all. A man can drive in the dead of night with something like ten pounds of toxic food while blaring Pantera, down one check, headed home to his awful wife. McDonalds. Pantera. Marriages that ain’t workin’. America. Life, you guys.

I only came here because I had to go to the bathroom somewhere. However, the bathroom was so nice and the people seemed so friendly that I would have felt guilty if I left without buying something. So, I bought a fruit & walnut ‘salad’ (which tasted bland, as all pre-​packed fruits). The cashiers was super nice, offering me things (like a bag to put my ‘food’ in), and still being nice when I declined. What is it with Wisconsin and their nice McDonalds?!