Ken v. McDonalds Episode 214: It’s Not You It’s Me – by Ken Bolding
Those of you who follow my “adventures” know that “Ken v. McD’s” always begins the same way, “A large iced coffee, no cream, no sugar, no flavor. And the two sausage McMuffin deal, no cheese… Ken, like Barbie’s boyfriend. K-E-N.” Sometimes I skip the McMuffins. Sometimes I add a water. But I use this particular combination of words because they seem to make it less likely that things will go awry. But they almost always do. And I’m beginning to think it’s me.
Let’s start with something seemingly unrelated. I sometimes put out streetlights. I approach them and they turn off. Most people don’t believe this but a few have witnessed it. A few years ago, I went to a cabaret show with my friend Melissa. As I walked her home, my recollection is that nine streetlights winked out as we passed under them during the 10-minute walk. My hypothesis is that my body emits or reflects a frequency of electromagnetic radiation that trips the light sensor. The streetlights think it’s daytime and turn off. Or maybe it’s more like a targeted EMP. I’m not sure. But judging by today’s interaction, whatever it is also disrupts the electromagnetic signals in the brains of McDonald’s employees and renders them unable to function. I approach and FLIP! Lights out.
“Sir, may I take your order?” The cashier seems normal, but somewhere around “no sugar,” he begins to short-circuit. He becomes visibly flustered, his eyes bug a little, and he looks nervously between his keyboard and my face as he stabs at the buttons. Something is going wrong. He pokes repeatedly at the same spot on the cash register like a lab mouse that has pressed the lever in his cage but failed to receive the customary food pellet and knows the shock is coming.
Tap.. Tap.. Tap-tap. The display reads “Med Iced Coffee… *No Cream…”
“Um, that a large iced coffee.” Tap.. Tap… Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. “Void..” Tap.. tap… tap.. tap-tap… tap-tap-tap… stab-stab-stab-stab-stab-stab-STAB-STAB. He looks up at me frustrated and then back over his shoulder at the helper, then back at me, then back at the register. Stab… stab-stab… stab-stab-stab. He gives up. He just enters “Large Iced Coffee” and tells the helper the rest. He asks me to swipe my card and looks relieved that the ordeal is over.
I swipe my card and notice the total is only two dollars and some cents. “I don’t think you entered my entire order,” I say.
“What? You just wanted the coffee, right?”
“I also ordered the two sausage McMuffin deal. No cheese.” He freezes, his eyes fill with all the fear of a soon to be electrocuted mouse. He wrestles again with the register and manages to subdue it (but only barely). I leave with both my order and a nagging suspicion. At the end of the novel “I am Legend,” the main character, the last human on earth who has not been turned into a vampire, comes to a realization. He is the monster. Vampire is now normal, and he is the thing that goes bump in the day.
Maybe, I too, am legend. I am seizure-guy. The customer that disrupts the brain functions of perfectly capable McDonald’s employees. But even a monster needs his coffee; so, McD’s, I can only offer you this mild comfort: It’s not you. It’s me.
