The Cheeseburger

At times the most mundane activity can become riotous comedy, and almost slapstick in nature.

Such a time happened last week when we drove through McDonald’s drive-in for a sandwich.

We had first gone to Arby’s to get Oldest Daughter a roast-beef sandwich, then drove across the street to Spangles to order a beverage and get the dog treat for Stanley, and finally drove to the other corner of the intersection to order Husband’s burger.

If you know ADHD, you might guess that all this activity strained Husband’s sense of concentration.

By the time we got his burger, I also wondered more about the young man who worked the drive-in lane.

The conversation was much like this:

“I want a quarter-pounder with cheese.”

“What drink would you like with that, Sir?”

“I don’t want a drink. I only want the sandwich.”

“Will that be with fries and a beverage, Sir?”

“No. I only want the sandwich. And don’t put ketchup or mustard on it.”

“Would you like that quarter-pounder with cheese, Sir?’

“Yes, I want the sandwich only. I want it with cheese, and I don’t want

 ketchup or mustard on it.”

“OK, Sir, I have a quarter-pound cheese burger, no ketchup or mustard. What can we get you to drink.”

Husband merely replied with a terse, “Nothing to drink. And oh, yes, I want three cookies.”

“OK, Sir. Pull to the first window, and I will have your total for you.”

When Husband paid for his sandwich, he leaned out the car window and stared at the young man as if to say, “Buddy, are you for real?”

I was relieved he did not say anything to the kid. When the young man kept asking about fries and a drink, I almost ordered them for me, and I wasn’t eating anything but the cookies.

We could feel the tension in the car, which was thick enough to cut.

I almost went inside the store to explain to the manager that the speaker system may not be working well.

Of course, I also got a good look at the young man, and he had a familiar lack of attention and focus on his face. Poor kid, they may have matched him with the wrong task.

It was late in the evening when traffic was low at McDonald’s. Possibly the manager was giving his employee opportunity to work the window. Possibly he was attempting to multitask, which research indicates may not be the best for efficiency.

As we drove away, I praised Husband for being patient with the young man. “Thank you for not calling him names,” I mentioned.

Husband merely grumbled and said. “I’m on drugs.”