A couple of weeks ago when my grandson was in town for some deer hunting, we went to McDonald’s drive-up early on a Sunday morning.
We placed the order of one McMuffin and two hash browns. Just the grandson was eating; I was along to finance the operation.
We pulled up to the pay window and the nice, friendly lady was, let’s say, in the zip code range of my age. She very politely told me my total and I gave her a $5 bill. Instead of handing me a handful of change, she actually counted it out before handing it to me.
Before she could pass my change through the window, I told her to put the change in the donation slot.
We then pulled up to the window where we would get our order. Again, another very nice lady in my age range (give or take 10 years) greeted us at the window. She told us that they had just dropped the hash browns in the fryer and it would be about three minutes until they were done so they would be nice and hot.
After about a minute and a half, the lady came back to the window and told us the hash browns would be ready in a minute. She offered us a cup of coffee or a hot chocolate while we waited.
Carter had a Gatorade from home so I didn’t think he wanted anything, but I accepted the coffee. I offered to pay for it but she said it was on the house. In no time at all we had Carter’s order and we were on our way.
I thought Carter was oblivious to the great service we had just received because he was busy munching on his hot, crispy hash browns
I thought to myself, “I have to be sure to tell people about this wonderfully pleasant experience at our Golden Arches,” (because I’ve taken the local fast food restaurant to task on another occasion for less than average service).
Carter and I spent the morning hunting before we headed back to the house, so he could return to Redwood Falls with his family.
As the family was gathered in the kitchen just before they were getting ready to leave, I remembered the McDonald’s experience and blurted out, “Hey, I gotta tell you about McDonald’s this morning.”
My wife, Mary, was quick to say, “Carter has already told us all about how those ladies at McDonald’s were hitting on Grandpa.”
I had no idea he was even paying attention to our trip through the drive-through, but somehow he translated pleasant, friendly service into Grandpa getting hit on, and for that I say, “Thank You McDonald’s,” because in my grandson’s eyes Grandpa still has it.