Hasty Decisions

I am lucky enough to have witnessed kindness, and empathetic enough to imitate that kindness in my daily life. But standing in a slow line at a local McDonalds has reminded me as many of us must be reminded every so often, that kindness is always the best option but not always the option we choose. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve encountered my fair share of injustice and other categories of unpleasant treatment. I have braved Racism, abuses of authority, ignorance, and random acts of brutal violence with hints of intentional humiliation on a busy street in a state capital and much more (Still not over that one.). But still, I force my neurosis addled mind to maintain that the way I treat those around me is a badge that I wear that hopefully reminds people to give that same treatment to those around them and admittedly myself when I am around them. This brings me to the line at McDonalds.


The smell of a sticky soda fountain fills the brown tiled room with a familiar yet slightly shameful comfort. The spindly teen behind the counter in all of his overly polite, taking deep breaths between customers to stave off nervousness glory, had already taken my order. A simple bacon ranch salad with no dressing because I’ve gotten fat, and a large coffee, black, no sugar, because I’ve gotten lazy and fat. I noticed a man standing behind me in the, “I’m waiting for my food” line. So of course I took a step to my left and said, “I’m sorry, I’m not in line” after a brief pause while gears in his head turned and he came to understand the situation. He responded, “Did I ask you?” The man had ventured to meet my innocuous interaction with venom. I ignored this, but while waiting for my salad to arrive I realized that my awkward friend would be interacting with this surly man next.

I took the deep breath at the same time as the teen behind the counter. The room seemed to dim and grow quiet.  The sun had formed a sort of spotlight on the duo as they acknowledged each other. Part of me pleaded with the universe for my salad to arrive before things took a turn for rude. Another part of me was planning a way to stall at the counter because that part of me wanted to see a show…badly. The rude patron, without making eye contact pointed to the board behind the thin almost-adult man. He uttered something heard by the counter-person but obscured from me by the pulse spiking screech of children in the indoor play place. The unfortunately bodied youth turned to confirm the selection when seemingly unprovoked, the irate man bellowed, “You look at me when I’m talking to you!” At this point I had gotten my show, and my salad.

I slowly walked towards the shrieking of the play place in case there would be something better to blog about there and because that’s where the power outlets were and my laptop needed to be charged. But before I walked out of earshot, the pubescent student driver summoned his courage and asked, “Do you want that with or without cheese?” I cringed as everyone in the room awaited the man’s answer. Now realizing he had gained attention he answered begrudgingly… slowly… deliberately, “I want it how it is supposed to come.”

Something about that response filled me with a sense of obligation for some reason. If you asked me why I did what I did, Even sitting here typing about the situation on my trusty Compaq of Righteous Fury, I would have no adequate answer for you. All I could think was that my plan of treating every person well and being kind to everyone I come across was put on hold for time of the interaction I would have with this one man. I could not and would not be kind to this person. I sat down my dry salad, still holding my extremely hot coffee that I was in fact cautious of. I walked over to this rude fully developed adult man who luckily was about my height and build, but older than me by maybe five years. I gesticulated casually with my large coffee and said, “How bad is your life that you have to take it out on this guy.” Then, I called him the names that adults call each other as I walked into a McDonalds play place full of impressionable children, because I make bad choices seemingly all the time.