Mark Tufo - A Plague Upon Your Family

“Would you like to pray sir?”

I just wanted to back the car up and drive forward, running over the speaker. I couldn’t stop looking at the box like it and not money was the root of all evil in the world.

“Sir I have your order for four Mint McShakes, 2 small Dr. Pepper’s. A cheeseburger with no cheese, two quarter pounders with cheese one with extra onions and one without buns, a girl toy chicken mcnugget happy meal with apple slices, and 2 Big McMacs and 18 super sized frenched fries with mustard.”

Not one order, not one fucking order was right. I had nothing left, Samir had beat me.

“Is that not correct sir?” When I did not answer him, he finished. “That will be $52.75 sir.”

I was numb as I pulled my car up to the first window, groping for my wallet. The next car in the growing line pulled up to the box, even from this distance, I could hear that I had in no way been singled out.

“NO! Not a McFlurrie with bacon!”

I pulled up to the first window, hoping beyond hope that I would find an ally to help me through these troubling times. Pimply faced ‘Becka’ was not going to be that person. She was busy talking to, I believe, ‘Tonya’ about what a jerk some guy named Spence was, through her Bluetooth headset.

She didn’t so much as look at me when she fairly demanded the money. “That’s 52.75, oh my gawd he’s the biggest jerk ever.”

“Excuse me miss?”

“So then he says to me, ‘Did you see what Darla was wearing?’ And I’m like why would I care what that bee-itch had on.” She rethrust her hand out seeking something I wasn’t willing to entrust to her.

“Excuse me miss?” I asked again, I would have had an easier time getting a response from Samir. I shuddered at that thought.

When Becka realized that I hadn’t paid yet, she finally looked at me with that condescending teenager look that says I know everything and why are you still breathing? Don’t you have a coffin to fill? (I hate teenage girls, is there any species more foreign on this planet?)

“That’s 52.75.” She said again, this time with less veneer. Not that she was laying the ‘nice’ on too heavy to begin with.

“Miss, I had some problems with the drive through.”

Apparently Tonya came back with some profound insight, because Becka once again completely forgot that I existed. “I know right?!” She replied.

How could Samir all of a sudden become the good employee in all of this? At least he paid me attention even if he had no clue.

“Yeah so then I sort of…oh wait Tonya.” She said turning to me again. “This guy is at my window and won’t leave. Yeah I don’t think he has any money. Oh Gross Tonya! No he’s not cute, he’s like 65 or something.”

Did she think I couldn’t hear her end of the conversation? Did she care? 65? And I am kind of cute…aren’t I? Why am I letting Becka make me doubt everything that I am? The human-ego is very delicate, more like a thin-skinned tomato than the hardy coconut. It can be bruised easily with little more than some mishandling.

“Miss.” I said. “My order isn’t right.”

“Hold on Tonya. Didn’t you just make it at the speaker? Gad Tonya some of these people can be such dolts.” She finished, looking straight at me.

Did she think she was texting? This couldn’t be happening, could it? I was on Punked or something. Someone must be making a YouTube video. “Where’s the camera?” I asked in the hopes that this was some masterful prank and not the true state of the world.

“No he’s still here. I think he may be a ‘tard’.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What is your problem.” Bruised ego or not, there was only so much I could take.

“Geez there’s no reason to get all hostile and stuff, it’s not my fault you couldn’t make your order right the first time.”

I would have peeled away leaving a trail of rubber, but that’s not really a specialty of Jeeps. I did drive away from the window and I did entertain the thought of just leaving and trying my luck at Burger King. Odds were today though that I would encounter more of the same. Had I the clairvoyance to have checked my horoscope this morning I would have known how this day was going to turn out. It read just one word ‘HIDE’.

If I went home now, empty handed, Tracy would make Becka’s mishandling of my ego seem like a feather’s caress. Nearly every fiber of my being revolted at the thought of going into the lion’s den. I parked the car, stepped out and onto five or six ketchup packets that had been strategically placed for just this effect. Red sticky liquid nearly made it to the knee of my tan Dockers, my expensive Italian leather shoes looking like I had just followed OJ through a crime scene. Ronald mocked me with his feral grin sitting on his bench all smug and self-centered.

Two of the largest women I had ever seen in my life nearly bowled me over as I tried to gain entrance into the inner sanctum of absurdity. Twins they were, but not of the ‘doublemint’ variety. One was swathed in head to toe spandex. Anything resembling my appetite was lost. Her sister had on a skirt that struggled for all it was worth to stay attached at the seams. The skirt barely covered massive varicose stained thighs. It looked like the world’s most detailed map had been tattooed on her, but I really had my doubts that it led to anything resembling treasure.

“Oh he looks good enough to eat.” I heard one of the sisters mutter to the other.

The other sister, placed her hand to her mouth and tittered. She looked about as dainty as a hippo.

Like I said though, egos are fragile and tender. As easily as they can be broken they can be propped up. Now I wouldn’t touch either one of these girls with a stick to see if they were alive, but still, at least one of them thought I was cute. Does ‘good enough to eat’ equal cute? It did in my world.

“Ladies.” I said with my cheesiest grin as I held the door open. This time they both tittered. I felt magnanimous. I didn’t have the slightest clue then, that in just a few short months from now I was going to expend a magazine of high caliber rounds into each corpulent sibling.

It was with this much-improved demeanor that I walked into the restaurant and up to the counter. My mood was only slightly diminished as I felt the tackiness of my red sauce covered shoe as it tried to adhere itself to the less than sanitary flooring. One young harried mother was at the counter ordering, two of her children were running around like they had just sucked down a couple of Red Bulls. Her third child was busy picking up errant French fries that had ended up on the deck. I cringed as she placed these ‘floor prizes’ into her mouth.

“Lexus!” She screamed. “Stop that I’m ordering your supper right now!”

Wait so she wasn’t upset that ‘Lexus’ was eating food off of a disgusting floor, but rather that she would ruin her appetite? Lexus didn’t heed her mother’s words as she placed another dirt encrusted something into her mouth, I don’t think it was a French fry, but I tell myself that it was, so that I can make it through the day without dry-heaving. The germaphobe in me would have had to disown this kid if she was mine.

“Lexus, Mercedes, Fred come on! I’ve got Happy Meals.” The young mother yelled.

All three stopped, even Lexus with what appeared to be the mid-section of a cockroach halfway to her mouth. The offending insect was discarded and rapidly forgotten as Lexus screamed merrily about getting a princess toy. My earlier merriment was completely destroyed as I stepped up to the counter. A sad faced man named Don (The shift supervisor), greeted me. I was to learn rather quickly that Don’s day had pretty much paralleled my own (except for the part about losing his job, but that part would come later after I left.)