Well, the coffee saga continues. Time for dire confession time!!! (*entering confessional with fake swagger but real vulnerability*)
I have slowly but surely become pseudo-addicted to McDonald’s (yeah, as in the big chain) Vanilla Iced Coffees (the boy-amigo turned me onto them…blame him). Trust me. I am as ashamed admitting it as you are reading it.
Well no, to be fair, you are probably more ashamed because I don’t do shame as much as inner loathing based on factors far more entrenched than other people.
And I realize in 10-20 years, I’m sure they’ll find traces of molten plutonium in my droppings, but hey, we all have our vices.
Anyway so at least a couple times a week, I stop by the McDonald’s drive-through to pick up one of these summuva-puns.
Here’s the thing! (There’s always a thing.) The lady at the McDonald’s I go to never makes them right! They are always missing the crucial transformative goo that makes the difference between sludge and elixir.
However, I can never ever say anything to her. Because this woman is a dead ringer for the McDonald’s spokesmodel they use in all of their drive-through ads.
Not necessarily in looks but in demeanor. The one who is smiling with the strength of UV rays with fries falling out of her pockets! The one who is emitting have-a-great-day winks and snaps until your brain explodes with the positive vibes! In terms of customer service skills, this girl was handpicked right out of the training guide.
You expect me to ask her to speak with her manager?
You try telling the Snuggle Bear your clothes didn’t come out as soft as expected. How dare all of you!
But there’s a happy ending.
Today I went dutifully to pick up my sludge, and I had a good feeling.
As expected, McDonald’s Lady Luck fixed her benevolent gaze (with the power of one thousand peace treaties) upon me and handed me the cuppa joe-schmoe, and I, in utter faith, received her blessing.
And guess what? I was right!! The coffee was sweeter than a puppy and a duckling slow-dancing!
I don’t even think she learned to make them right; I literally believe that her positive attitude infused itself into the bitter coffee beans* until they all had smiley faces on them.
At least that’s the story I tell the kiddies.
*I realize there are probably no actual coffee beans in this drink. Metaphor-geddaboudit!
I looked up “super smiles” for this entry. I found this picture, which is adorable. Some of the other pictures I found were terrifying.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Phil Scoville