Stupidity, cubed

This morning was a slow starter. I lay in bed for about fifteen minutes after the alarm went off thinking about how much I didn't want to get out of bed and how much I didn't want to work today (even though I've basically had the last two days off--not to mention the weekend). What finally got me out of bed was my promise to myself that if I would get up, get ready, and work on that huge project I've been putting off, then I could go to McDonald's for breakfast. McDonald's! Breakfast! I love McDonald's breakfast! Especially when you throw in a 32 oz. Diet Coke!

So I managed to get out of bed and carry out my morning routine, a little later than usual, but better late than never, or so I'm told. I giddily jumped into the car and drove to my local McDonald's, the promise of a sweet, sweet sausage egg biscuit sitting on the tip of my brain. I got into the left turn lane to turn into the parking lot. A middle-aged woman driving a green Malibu got to the entrance before me and was turning right into the parking lot so I let her go first. That was my first mistake. I waited. And waited. Aaaand waited. Finally the driver managed to get the car into the lot and began maneuvering with all the deftness of a retarded snail nursing an old war wound. She traversed the parking lot going barely faster than idle speed and trudged her car into the drive-thru and up to the first speaker. I waited. She ordered. I waited. She talked some more into the speaker. I waited. Finally the person in front of her pulled forward and she did the same. She pulled up to the second speaker and began to order again. By now I was almost tearing my hair out and stuffing down the urge to yell, "YOU ONLY HAVE TO ORDER AT ONE SPEAKER! PULL YOUR FREAKING CAR UP TO THE WINDOW!" I saw her order on the screen so I know she ordered two sausage biscuit meals. Easy. Two sausage buiscuit meals, why was this so hard for her? It takes me approximately six seconds to order, and that's on a slow day. "Hey, I'd like a number ___ with a large Diet Coke." "Will that complete your order?" "Sure will." "Pull forward to the window." Done and done. But not Malibu lady. No. Already she had taken a good four minutes of time, and counting.

I guess whoever was on speaker two told her she didn't need to order again because she finally pulled from the second speaker up to the window where the currency actually changes hands. Once there, she then proceeded to spend a good three minutes talking to the girl at the register. I have no idea what she was talking about, but if it was a problem with her order then she had to be a total moron because how difficult is it to order two sausage egg biscuit meals? This is where I pulled out my Sunday school training and started reminding myself that this woman was a child of God and that God loves everybody, even if they are too freaking stupid to have a driver's license and go through the drive-thru. I had to remind myself of this fact several times, up to, and including, when the woman got out cash to pay for her order and then dropped a coin of her change on the ground. Just leave it there, leave it there, leave it-- Of course she didn't just leave it there, she actually took off her seat belt, opened her car door, and leaned down to pick up what couldn't have been more than a quarter, tops. This is where I stopped thinking that she was a child of God and started contemplating the theory of evolution and wondering if it were my duty as a member to society to ram the back of her car and take her stupid genes out of the breeding pool. But since she was at least sixty I concluded she'd already done her reproductive damage and the risks (assault charges, jail time, and no McDonald's breakfast) far outweighed the rewards (the death of an obvious cretin, supreme satisfaction). Seriously, what was this lady's problem? She can't drive, can't figure out how to order from a drive-thru window, and can't even handle something as simple as handling her change. I could only think of one solution: she must be a renegade Amish woman who decided to leave her community and integrate (unsuccessfully) into average society. I finally pulled up to the first window and was greeted with an emphatic "I'm so, so sorry" from the girl at the register. I handed over my debit card and was at the second window within fifteen seconds. The stupid Malibu woman had gotten her food and chosen this as the time to drive like a bat out of hell toward the street. Who knows, maybe her orthopedic shoes got stuck on the pedal or something.

My experience with this woman led me to three conclusions: 1) the Amish need to stay Amish; 2) cash is passé--use your freaking debit card. If you insist on cash and drop your change like a moron, just leave it there. You obviously don't deserve to keep it; 3) just because someone's a child of God doesn't mean I can't hate her.