Recently, I feel like I work just to maintain the status quo. It's almost as if I'm on Scooby Doo trying to run away from the monster but my feet never touch the ground. I'm magically levitating in mid-air with my feet running so fast they're blurry.
This reminds me of my most recent trip to the golden arches. In my sleep deprived morning states, I'm admittedly not unlike a mosquito being drawn in by the ginormous yellow bug light that is the McDonalds sign. On this particular morning, I pulled in for a tea and breakfast sandwich. Unlike many of the McDonalds this one didn't have the pre-recorded greeting. You know, the one that you place your order and someone totally different responds. IT's TOO EARLY IN THE MORNING FOR THAT CRAP! I digress. This McD's had a live person. She came on with the familiar, "Hello, can I take your order? (southern...uh, Indiana accent)." I gave my order then pulled to the window. When I brandished my card she said, "I can't take your card. I told you the machine was down." Huh? Of, course, I responded with, "No, you said hello, can I take your order." Her brilliant response was, "I told you it was broke." Then she left and came back with a manager who apologized for the entire incident. I explained that I was getting cash when she took off to get the manager and that I was just surprised when she said the machine was broken. Of course, the worker is saying that she did tell me under her breath despite the manager's grimace. I figured it was a good time to thank them both before I got an unwanted crunch to my sandwich.This whole incident made me wonder if it really takes a manager to apologize for crappy workmanship. When did we get so screwed up that workers can't own an apology? Was this the result of years of "LET ME SPEAK TO YOUR SUPERVISOR," when shady telemarketers called our houses? Or did this come from the classic, "Go ask your dad," parental
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