Can I have a side of hair with that?

I was out at Lowe's today with my husband looking at countertops and flooring.  Just passing the time and getting ideas for about what's next for my house.  When we were done perusing the aisles, we decided to go out for lunch.  It'd been a while since we've eaten anywhere other than home (our dogs just had puppies and p.s. bottle feeding isn't fun), so I suggested we check out downtown Crestview (or Crestucky as many refer to it as).  I was told there was a pretty good pizza spot down there, and I love trying new things and new places.  When we get there, we discover it, like everything else downtown except the churches, is closed.  So we decide to head home, and on the way just stop by the McDonalds drive-thru--quick and easy.  A girl comes over the speaker and asks us what we'd like, and we ask if we can have a second.  She says, "Sure.  Order when you're ready."  About two minutes later my husband begins to order and she interrupts to ask us to wait.  It's a double drive-thru, the kind with two lanes.  After we see three cars from the other lane place their order and move on through the line, we finally submit our order and inch up toward the window.  After about 10 or so minutes, we pay, get our yummylicioulsy unhealthy burgers and fries, and get on our way home.  I, of course, cannot wait till I get home to dig into my fries.  I love Mickey D's fries, and everyone knows they're only good when they're hot.  So I pull mine out and start chowing down.  I ask the hubby if he wants his, he says sure, and when I look in his bag for his fries... surprise, surprise!!!  There are at least two long black hairs wrapped around his golden hot fries.  Ewww, right?!  Look at the photo, you can see one of the hairs.  I tell the hubs to go back, that I will go inside and get him another carton.  After about 10 minutes of traffic lights and u-turns, I'm back at McDonalds--this time, inside the store.  I walk in and walk up to the counter with my bag in my hands, and I see a girl at the register.  She's young, probably still in high school.  She looks at me, and there is no one else at the counter mind you, and she turns around and starts fumbling with two order receipts.  An older couple walks up and asks if I've already placed my order.  I answer yes, and they stand in front of the register.  The girl turns around, takes their order, and walks away.  Are you serious???  A gentleman standing next to me says, "You're going to have to do something pretty dramatic to get someone's attention around here."  All I can think is, "Really???"  I know it's fast food, and that I shouldn't expect much, but I am still paying customer, and one thing anyone that's paying for something can expect is to be acknowledged.  So I'm still standing there--waiting.  And there are four girls behind the counter.  One appears to be the manager or supervisor because she's wearing the fancy button-down shirt.  She's the one pouring the fries into the cartons.  Another is working the drive-thru window, and the other two are, I'm guessing, working the front registers--except they seem to have forgotten that's what they're there for.  NONE of them have their hair secured.  One is wearing it down with a hat on.  The other two are swinging their long ponytails around without hairnets, and the manager, although she has it in a bun, has all kinds of fly-aways swirling around.  No wonder hair is infesting the fries.  Anyway, one of the register girls walks up with a hamburger box, says, "Quarter-pounder, no pickles," and hands it to the man who'd told me I'd have to do more to get attention.  It's been more than 10 minutes at this point, and I'm thinking I'm going to have to start dancing on the counter or throwing ketchup packets at the employees for someone to realize I'm waiting to be helped, although I'm 100% sure that they knew I hadn't been helped, as I'd said excuse me about three times and was still standing there, with my eyebrows raise to the top of my forehead no doubt.  The man who's taken the pickle-less burger returns and tosses it on the counter.  The second of the two register girls sees him and starts walking away when he loudly says, "Hey!  This has cheese on it."  The girls picks up the box and says, "Oh."  Can you believe that?  Not, "I'm sorry," or "I apologize for the inconvenience,"  just ,"oh."  She turns to walk away and the gentleman advises her that I also have a problem with my food.  I explain that I'd gone through the drive-thru and driven away only to find hair sprinkled in my fries, and that I'd like a new carton.  I pull out the container and show it to her, and she looks at it without surprise, remorse, or embarrassment and says, "A medium right?"  I nod my head and turns around and walks away with man's burger.  I'm still completely shocked the the whole situation.  The guy who'd returned his burger turns to me and says it's the third time he had to return his burger because regardless of how much he emphasized that he didn't want cheese or pickles it would come back to him with one or the other.  About a minute later the girl returned with a new container of fries for me.  She handed them to me.  I said thank you.  She looked at me with a blank stare and walked away.  I know they get paid minimum wage, and their job isn't the greatest.  But they do have a job.  It could be worse.  In an economy where jobs are fewer and people spend less, you'd think a business would try just a little bit harder ensure customers are somewhat satisfied.  I can't say this will stop me from ever going back to a McDonalds.  But I know for sure I will not be going back to the on the south end of Crestview, FL. 

How this all began

This all started last summer—August 17th, 2010 to be exact.  I was back in New York City, the best place on earth (at least to me), on vacation.  It’d been a while since I was there last, and with there being so many choices as far a places to eat and things to do, I decided to rely on my handy Andriod phone for suggestions.  In the City you could eat at a different restaurant everyday and it would take you years to get to them all.  And since I only had a week, I decided to use Places, Where and Yelp to help me choose.

I read other’s ratings and suggestions and chose where I went based on those things.  I started paying more attention to the experience.  How was the food?  How was the service?  Was the wait acceptable?  Would I go back?  It started with restaurants.  I chose one based on ratings, location and menu, and after the meal, I’d log on and and write 20 to 30 words (on a phone more than that would take forever)  about it.  I was hooked.  After doing it just once, I couldn’t eat anywhere without logging on and writing about it.

It didn’t take long before my obsession of rating my experiences in restaurants expanded to rating my experiences everywhere.  Tourist attractions, hotels, stores, the metro… anything I experienced I wanted to let people know how it was.

When I came home to Florida, I continued to do it.

On New Year’s day, my husband, his friends and I were driving home, hungover of course, from Panama City Beach when we pulled into IHOP.  I woke up that morning thinking about Jack in the Box Tacos, but with no Jack in the Box anywhere close I settled for IHOP.  After devouring my stuffed french toast, I pulled out my phone to rate my experience.  That was when my husband suggested I write a blog about it.  Nineteen days later, here I am.  Finally.

I couldn’t figure out how to start this.  Honestly, I’m still not sure.  But I hope someone finds it useful, or at the very least entertaining.