My faith in the continued existence of mankind on this planet has sunk to an all time low.

Today I was hungry and went to McDonald's. This is not an unusual occurrence, and it is never a terribly pleasant experience, but today it was beyond belief. As a matter of fact, it was so bad that it bears repeating.

First off, it's already disturbing that go in I expect bad food and even worse service. I remember being trained at Publix about the importance of customer service (especially the video "The Guest") and actually remember people whom I thought were nice to customers not getting raises on the grounds that their customer service was not good enough, but I have let my standards slip recently. I have become more and more tolerant of poor service and less and less willing to complain about it. Despite this, I usually hold that at least a few things should happen when I go out to eat:

1. I should be acknowledged as extant.
2. I should be able to comprehend the dialect of the English language the employee is speaking.
3. The employee to whom I am speaking should be able to comprehend the dialect of English I'm speaking.
4. I should be charged approximately the right price.
5. The manager should apologize for mistakes when the manager is needed in order to correct them.
6. Employees handling cash should be able to perform basic arithmetic.
7. My order should be served in a timely fashion and should be generally correct.

Every last one of these standards was apparently on holiday during my trip to McDonald's today. One at at time:

#1) When I walked up to the counter, I was looking at a maybe 16 year old kid with pants falling off of him, shirt halfway tucked in, two of the top three buttons undone and the rest of buttons buttoned one hole off, and a tie slung around his neck so loosely that it was obvious he had neither untied it since the last time he wore it nor bothered to tighten it after he slipped it over his head. I was looking at him, but all I received in return was a blank stare. It would have been nice to receive a "Welcome to McDonald's!" or just a "Welcome!". Even a "Whaddaya want?" would have been better than nothing. Since no words were exchanged, I started to place my order.
"Hello. I'd like a num...." is as far as I got. Without a word he turned and walked away.
After the initial shock wore off, I flagged down the kid to let him know that I was ready to order. He continued his conversation with his coworker for a little while and finally came over, stood behind the register and resumed giving me a blank stare.

#2, #3) "I'd like a number one with no pickles, large please." I said.
"Damealordasamish?" came the interruption.
It took me a second to decipher exactly what was said, but could tell by the tone of the kid's voice that it was supposed to be a question. When I realized that he had asked "The meal or the sandwich?", my immediate mental response was this: What?! It's already sad that they have simplified the menus to the point where you can order by number, but this question is ludicrous. If I had said "A BigMac combo", it would have been possible, although not very plausable, that he could have not heard the word "combo" and the question would have some merit, but I used the combo's number. Completely unambiguous? Apparently not.
"The meal, please. And a double cheeseburger, also without pickles." I responded
"Whadchsay?" At this point, I was convinced that the boy was speaking Klingon.
"Huh?"
"Wha .... cha .... say?" he said in a noticeably surly and irritated tone.
"Oh. The meal. And a double cheeseburger, also no pickles." I repeated patiently.
"Nahpicka?" he said. At this point, before I could decipher the question, let alone answer it, he turned around and cupped his hands over his mouth.
"Niggadabimacandubnahpicka!" Pause. "Yeanahpicka!" he shouted to the coworker to whom he had been talking earlier. I had personally assumed that that information would have shown up on the appropriate screen in the food preparation area, but I'll assume that it doesn't and the yelling was necessary.

#4) While the shouting match was going on, I had peremptorily swiped my debit card in the little machine they have for doing so. This whole idea is also pretty stupid, similar to banks charging you an ATM fee for giving you the privilege of doing a teller's job yourself. Doing this early turned out to be a bad idea.
The employee finished ringing up my order and I just happened to look at the display on the register for the split second my total showed up before my account was debited. $12.40 it said. I did some basic research on the menus and some even more basic arithmetic in my head. Something was wrong. $4.39 for the combo, plus a generously estimated $1.00 to make it large (since the additional cost was not listed on the menu), plus $1.00 for the double cheeseburger is $6.39, plus a generously estimated 7% tax at about 35 cents. Grand total: $6.74, not $12.40.
"Yawannaresee?"
"Yes, I would love a receipt."
A quick examination of the cryptic shorthand on the greasy, blurred receipt revealed the source of the problem. I was charged for an extra double cheeseburger ( + $1.00), and, in addition to the combo, an separate Big Mac and a separate large order of french fries. I also noticed that nowhere on the receipt did it say anything about not wanting pickles. Ah, hence all the yelling.
"Excuse me, but this isn't correct." I said to -- no one. It turns out in the five seconds it had taken me to examine the receipt and determine the problem, the employee had disappeared. I looked around and saw him behind the drink machine staring off into space as if he were trying to look at something on just the other side of Pluto.
"Excuse me," I repeated, "but this isn't correct."
He meandered over and snatched the receipt out of my hand. "Whaddayamea?"
"I asked for a number one, large, no pickles, and a double cheeseburger, also without pickles." I repeated
"Awww.... Shi......" At least this wasn't a garbled blur of under-enunciated phonemes. He then walked away with the receipt. I was praying that he was going to get the manager. It should be noted here that you should be careful what you wish for because you just may get it.

#5) Up to the counter sauntered the day shift manager. She seemed only slightly less under-qualified to be employed by McDonald's. She had a similar mildly groomed appearance and an identical blank stare. She exerted the full force of that hollow gaze squarely upon me. After about 10 seconds of silence, I decided to get the ball rolling.
"I was ov...." was as far as I got before she broke her stare with me and started violently tapping away at the touch screen.
"Which you be?" she said, pointing at the touch screen with a rather baffled look on her face. I would like to point out that, in the hand she was not using to abuse the register, she was holding the receipt. I let that slide. Also, the screen was facing away from me. I let that slide as well.
"I ordered a number one, large, no pickles, and a double cheeseburger, also no pickles." For those keeping track, that was the third time I had repeated my order in its entirety. She shot a look at me over the register as if to say what she said immediately after giving me the look.
"And...?"
"And I was charged over $12 dollars. That should have cost less than $7."
She went back to punching things into the register and, after a few seconds, signaled to the cashier something vaguely resembling "It's fixed," held up a finger to me as if to say "Just one moment, please," (I'm being very generous here) and meandered back to the back of the store. Little did I know that this was not my last interaction with this wonderfully sunny person.

#6) The cashier came back to the register and started dealing with the next irritated customer, an older man whom I had seen eating when I came in. He ordered something he had apparently forgotten to order earlier, and the total came to $1.07, which I checked against the menu and which was, surprisingly, correct.
"Here's $1.12." the older man said, as he handed the boy a $1 bill, a dime, and two pennies. I actually watched the man count out the money, so I can verify that he handed the cashier exactly what he said he did. When the order was completed, the register drawer opened and the boy gave me back the refund. At least that was cleared up. The boy then took the man's money, dropped it in the register and, without a second thought, handed the man back four pennies. I think I actually heard the man think "Did he really just do that?", as I quickly counted my refund for errors. I then realized that this was futile, because I had never been told the correct amount and could not know if I had been short changed, again. I gave up on counting. For the better part of the next minute, the man patiently explained that he had given the boy $1.12 to get rid of pennies and that the change was supposed to be a nickel. I believe that at one point I actually heard the cashier say "Disainnobank!" In the end, the man just gave up and grumbled as he went back to his seat to wait for his food.
After the man had given up all hope and sat down, I somehow managed to get the boy's attention and ask for my cup. The boy sighed and slowly, and with an apparently exorbitant amount of effort on his part, reached under the counter and produced a medium cup.
"I ordered a large."
"Didcha?"
"Yes."
Eyeing me suspiciously, he shoved the medium cup back under the counter and tossed a large one onto the counter.
Only then did it strike me: why did the man go and sit down and wait for his food? Last time I checked, McDonald's was a fast food restaurant. I found out later exactly why this should be the basis of a lawsuit against McDonald's for the violation of federal "false advertisement" laws.

#7) I walked over to the self service drink machine. Again, why am I doing all of this work myself after paying for the drink? I poured my drink, grabbed a lid and a straw, and waited, sipping idly on my drink. And I waited, sipping idly on my drink. I noticed the manager come out and throw something onto the counter, but it wasn't my order so I waited, sipping idly on my dr... slurp. On my dr.. slurp. Slurp. I refilled my drink, and waited, sipping irritatedly on my second large drink.
Finally some food was tossed on the counter which looked vaguely like my order. I decided to investigate. It turns out it was my order and I picked up the tray. As I did, the manager popped out from behind the ice machine and a grunted at me. Yes, grunted.

#5 again) "Eh!" she grunted at me, pointing to what I now noticed was two identical slips of paper, equal in greasiness and blurriness to the receipt, and a pen. I looked at them and made out the words "Customer refund slip", more of the cryptic order text, and a line that said "Customer signature".
"Am I supposed to sign?" I asked, by this point not even bothering to mask my aggravation.
"Uh huh." she said as she started blankly at the same something on the far side of Pluto that the cashier had been staring at earlier.
"Do I need to sign both or just one?" I was getting really tired of this.
"One." Complete sentences were obviously beyond her by this point.
I signed, put down the pen, and made enough eye contact with her that she came and took the receipt, picking it up in such a way that it was completely crumpled. As I watched her saunter off, I shook my head in despair, picked up my tray, and was stuck by the jagged edge of the broken corner of the tray.

#7 again) I found a reasonably clean seat, sat down, and started to eat. My first bite of the Big Mac was exactly as expected: drenched in the taste of pickles. I patiently picked off all of the extra pickles from both my Big Mac and the double cheeseburger, and started to eat again. Just then, someone decided that it would be a good idea to turn on the music. Just when I thought I was done being irritated, I was now listening to blaring Kenny G on a speaker with a very noisy short in it.

Is all of this too much to ask? Does it really take that much effort for employees to do the absolutely minimal amount of work that their employers are paying them to do? Apparently, based on the observable clues, the answer is a resounding "yes" on both counts. I honestly think that mankind has found a way to defeat natural selection by allowing people such as these particular McDonald's employees to no only survive, but flourish. Charles Darwin: 0, the stupidity of mankind: 1. We're all doomed.