I try to have lunch with the girls at school every now and then. It’s probably not as often as I should, but since it usually involves some sort of fast food, it’s a huge treat. You show up, and the parents are directed to the stage in the cafeteria. It’s fascinating really. I show up with 3 kids meals and a tray of drinks precariously balanced in one hand and a two year old being dragged along in the other. Good times.
The girls’ lunch times overlap by about 20 minutes. We get to talk about the school day and visit with some of the other families. The girls are always excited when Mr. Frank comes by to chat. Mr. Frank is a grandpa that volunteers at the school. He’s a sweet old guy, a partially retired farmer who adores his granddaughter and all the other kiddos at the school. He’s so busy making sure he talks to each kid, that they only get a couple of seconds with him every day. A couple of weeks ago, I found out that might be a good thing.
I was unloading the happy meals from McDonalds because right now it’s all about the dragons when Mr. Frank came over. He was passing out napkins and handed me a handful when I realized that for all of our food I was given 2 napkins. Mr. Frank asked if I went to the McDonalds that was closest to the school. I did. I told him how I had learned to check the bags because one day I showed up at lunch with my salad and 3 happy meals with no chicken nuggets. The girls ate the chicken off my salad, then my salad and then I had to get Bria more food when I left. Wrong story to tell Mr. Frank! He sat down and told me a tall tale. Really it wasn’t all that tall since it was true…
Mr. Frank’s granddaughter decided she really wanted some fries, McDonalds fries to be exact. So they headed over and were apparently the only people in the drive-thru. After waiting for 22 minutes (Mr. Frank was very clear on this) for 2 bags of fries and 2 small cokes, Mr. Frank was handed cold fries and watered down drinks. He wasn’t happy. He explained (I hope nicely) that since he had waited so long he would really like warm fries and drinks that didn’t include melted ice. Guy in the window told him sorry, move along, at this point there are other people behind him. Mr. Frank asks to speak to the manager.
Mr. Manager tells Mr. Frank he’s sorry, but no warm fries, no new drinks, no refunds. At this point Mr. Franks starts to tell me the racial background of all the workers. Hanan’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger wondering what her mother is about to say. Mr. Frank is an old man, set in his ways, I learned along time ago it’s best to nod my head and respect my elders and explain to my kids later. Little did I know how much explaining I would have to do.
Mr. Frank proceeded to get very, very angry about the fact that the manager wouldn’t refund his money and take his food back. He threw both cokes in the manager’s face and then threw the fries in the window for good measure. He told me that he said to the manager, “Call the police if you want. I am sitting right here and I’m calling them.”
Can you imagine that 9-1-1 operator. “What’s your emergency?”…”The manager at the McDonalds just stole my money. He won’t get me a refund for my small fries and coke. You might need to arrest me too for aggravated assault.” This is how my tax money is being spent here in the hicks.
When Mr. Frank finished his story I told him that I found it to be much more productive to mention any problems to the corporate office. Oh, and that you tend to catch more flies with honey. Other than that, what do you say? I know you’re a sweet guy but stay the heck away from my kids?
Oh the police did come. They told Mr. Frank he shouldn’t throw food, particularly in front of his granddaughter. When he left the drive-thru, Mr. Frank was validated with hot fries and new cokes. (That’s new not watered down soda for those of you who don’t live in my southern world. Not that crappy New Coke drink from 1990 something.)