Yes, I've already shared this story with a couple of my friends already. However, it is what educators call "a teachable moment" and what I call "an unmitigated disaster", so I'll continue.
This starts with my irrational addiction to praise. It is my manna from heaven whilst being my crack-cocaine all at once. Unfortunately for me, my employers are a judicious with their compliments, which throws me into withdrawal. And all of the sudden, my inner monologue becomes this crazy person that questions everything I do. Everything.
So when one of the guys at work saunters over and asks another guy to go get a sandwich, I crack a stupid joke about whether they're getting a McRib. (Truthfully- I have already decided I desperately want a McRib today. It's been a sadly praise-free day and I need a pick me up in the form of a pork-like jelly patty.) He laughs, and jokes back,
"Man, do I look poor to you?"
Clearly a joke. BUT the crazy person in me says, "He's on to you!! He knows you're broke as shit! He probably knows you make faces when you type too!" And that's when my confidence really takes a hit and things start to get weird.
Shortly after that, I excused myself for lunch [McDonald's] and raced over for my McRib. When I got there, someone was polite enough to hold the door open. Like a normal person, I smiled and thanked him. And then, like a crazy person, he raced over to the bathrooms and started gesturing frantically.
I was confused. In the best of times, I have trouble understanding what is going on, but today, I wasn't even wearing my glasses. He continued to wave and I continued to smile politely until he jumped in front of me and started asking me what was up. Since I didn't know how to answer that, I didn't. Then he started asking me for my number, which I also refused to answer. THEN he started asking me with loud concern if I was deaf. Since I do know a little bit of sign language, I started signing "hungry" and "sorry".
Then my dumb self realized that I still needed to order and that I couldn't do that in sign language. So I mumbled out an apology and ducked to the counter.
Honestly, I was so close to the counter. Unfair.
At the counter, I had some immediate karmic retribution because the perky cashier could not understand what I was saying."McFlurry? You want a McFlurry?" he asked me brightly. NO. McRib! But because I wasn't wearing my contacts, couldn't see anything, and wanted to get the heck out, I compromised and got a chicken club. (Incidentally, that little masterpiece is actually more calories than the infamous KFC Double-down. Good work self.)
Maybe, I reasoned, there were no McRibs here. After all, it just came out. But while I waited for the sandwich that was NOT a McRib, I squinted up at the board, and sure enough, there was a mother-flippin McRib. I nearly fell to my soon-to-be-diabetic knees with frustration.
I left McDonald's calorically rich, but spiritually poor. Barely 5 feet out the door, a man leers up behind me and goes,
"Oooh McDonald's! What did you get me?"
No longer willing to play games, I ducked out of the way. But he followed me for about a block, singing an inspired ballad about how he needs a woman to buy him McDonald's.
No longer willing to play games, I ducked out of the way. But he followed me for about a block, singing an inspired ballad about how he needs a woman to buy him McDonald's.
After that, it felt like all the males were checking me/my McDonald's out. Not willing to share either of those things, I decided to unwrap my sandwich and eat it while walking. Under normal circumstances, I would have just walked back to the building and ate it there.
But what if everyone saw me eating poor people food?!? So that was not an option. I would have to eat this sandwich on the street.
At this point, I realize I look crazier than normal. Most people at least stop moving while they're eating, at least if they're not part shark. (I'm not.) So I start looking for a place to settle down, well aware of the fact I have basically 15 minutes left in my lunch break.
And that, dear readers, is how I ended up eating over a grate in an alleyway next to the Red Lion hotel. Like the complete and utter vagrant I am. It was warm and I was cold and hungry.
Moral of the story? This all could have been avoided if I acted with some decisive, kick-ass confidence. Kids, you go EAT that McRib. Don't let my stupid chicken club have been in vain. Don't anyone tell you McRibs are for poor people or that you need to pretend to be deaf to get one or that it doesn't exist. Eat it with style.
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