ESP at McDonald’s
This morning:
I pull into the drive-thru full of confidence, already knowing exactly what I am going to get and anticipating the deliciousness that is to come.
The drive-thru speaker squelches. “Hello and welcome to McDonald’s, would you like to try an iced mocha?”
…
…
Damn.
She nailed it. I DO want an iced mocha. Not only do I want an iced mocha, that’s ALL I want. What now? My confidence has completely vaporized. In all my years of being offhandedly offered three layer enchiritos, firecracker chicken sandwiches, and other bizarre specials, I’ve never been offered what I actually wanted. Yes, I still WANT the mocha, but now she’s beaten me to the punch. I can’t possibly give her the satisfaction of feeling like she talked me into something.
Think. THINK!
I nearly order the “big breakfast” in a blind panic, “I… uh… I’ll just have an iced mocha actually,” I say awkwardly. It was weird, somehow sounding like it simultaneously completely ignored her question and acknowledged it. Either way, I feel she got the impression that I was going to order it well before she opened her stupid, prophetic mouth.
I pull around nervously ready to meet this cash register oracle. When I reach the window, I try to keep cool, smiling and handing her my credit card. I can’t do it though. I break eye contact as soon as I’ve made it, and wait for my card staring straight ahead into nothing.
“Thank you. Pull ahead to the next window,” she says.
“Thanks,” I respond, grabbing my card and once again reluctantly locking eyes for a split-second. I breathe a sigh of relief, finally free this strangely uncomfortable situation, and pull forward. I grab my mocha, take a sip, and pull out onto Lincoln.
“It was worth it,” I think, followed by “I should’ve just let her think she talked me into it. I should’ve said ‘You know what… an iced mocha sounds tremendous, I’ll have that!’ Why couldn’t I be quick? Why couldn’t I be smooth…”
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