This morning, my breakfast routine was interrupted. There on the door of the local McDonald’s was a letter-size piece of paper, fresh from the computer. It said:
SORRY
NO HASHBROWN TODAY
-THE MANAGEMENT
What’s this? WHAT’S THIS? No hashbrown? And it wasn’t even the plural, “hashbrowns“. Clearly they underestimated the demand for the greasy potato pucks and only kept one in stock.
Or maybe it’s more serious than that. Maybe hashbrowns aren’t as plentiful as I had thought. I must have eaten the last one yesterday!
DEBBIE: Hi, can I help you?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Yes, I’ll have the Egg McMuffin Meal.
DEBBIE: [hesitating] The meal?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Yeah.
DEBBIE: You mean… the Egg McMuffin and coffee?
CUBICLE DWELLER: And hashbrown. The “meal”.
DEBBIE: Uhhh. One second, please. [shouting to back of restaurant] Can I get the key to the hashbrown vault, please?!
[The manager emerges from the back]
MANAGER: Did you just ask for the hashbrown key?
DEBBIE: This gentlemen just ordered… he ordered… the hashbrown.
MANAGER: [to CUBICLE DWELLER] You ordered our hashbrown?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Uh… yeah.
MANAGER: Are you trying to put me out of business?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Huh?
MANAGER: You come in here, thinking you’re mister big-shot, and you expect us to just hand over our hashbrown? Do you know how much work went into its creation? Debbie here slaved for days, gluing together bits of french fries, making sure that it was exactly in the right proportion.
DEBBIE: [under her breath] Bastard.
MANAGER: What makes you think you can just… take that away from us? Without our hashbrown — without our precious, crispy, golden hashbrown — we’re nothing. Nothing! Do you understand me?
CUBICLE DWELLER: I guess I can’t supersize that, then?
MANAGER: What was that? A joke? Was it? Was it a joke? Were you trying to be a funny guy? Do you think it’s funny, showing up, throwing down your money, and taking away our very life’s work?
CUBICLE DWELLER: I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—
MANAGER: No! That’s just fine. You are the customer after all. You’re always right. Debbie, get the sign and put it on the door. I’ll get… [choking back a sob] I’ll get the hashbrown.
Well. Since you’re set on destroying my business, I suppose you’d like to take our ketchup packet too.
Well maybe it didn’t happen exactly like that, now that I think about it. But the sign did seem strange to me.