If you want to be called a motherfucker, just order an ice cream cone at a Los Angeles McDonalds. The restaurant serves up more than smiles for free. If a customer asks to speak with a non-existent manager after it all, look forward to an employee telling you to call the governor among other things.
It all started with a small order of fries and two ice creams. It all ended with a "fuck you."
9:45 pm at the 6345 Wilshire Blvd location in L.A. The restaurant already ranks among the worst McDonalds locations for the reputation of consistently serving up old food, hamburgers and supposed meals that are frequently sitting so long under lamps that the food is pretty much inedible. If you ever ask the Wilshire location for fries that don't taste like old grease, McDonalds will meet that request, but they'll ask you to pull over into a parking spot while they make newer french fries. There's no guarantee those won't taste like reused grease but they're usually better. If a customer was asking for the freshest fries simply out of OCD it might be one thing, but to have to wait over five minutes every time simply because the restaurant pretty much never has decent fries on hand is ridiculous. Knowing full well that the fries were probably going to be horrible as usual, I was tired enough to take my chances while figuring the risk was worth not having to wait. Plus I figured ice cream was safe. After all, who can screw up ice cream that's pre-mixed in a machine. I guess that was a wrong assumption. I didn't factor in bizarre or nutty employees.
After ordering through the drive-thru and waiting nearly 20 minutes despite just three cars in line, I was happy to receive my bag and finally be free to drive off and out of the line from hell. However when exiting the driveway, I realized ice creams don't come in a bag. Circling the block, I went directly to the walk-up window with receipt in hand. Of course the employee shouldn't have been able to forget one of three customers, or one they looked in the face less than two minutes prior. That would be common sense anyway. It's also doubtful that many people try to rip off a McDonalds for free ice cream in the middle of the night, or willing to circle the block and wolf one down just to do it. The same employee who was working the drive-up window first ignored me for minutes before finally coming to the walk-up. Offering up my receipt, I said I'd never received the two ice creams ordered. He looked me in the face and told me he'd given them to me. Parked at the curb and waiting was the driver, with full view into the vehicle. So I again said that, no, I hadn't received either ice cream, that we'd been handed a bag and told goodnight. That's when the employee basically called me a liar over less than two dollars worth of items. I offered up the theory that he could see straight into the vehicle parked just feet away and that there were no ice creams in it at all. He turned his back on me and walked to the opposite window to help another customer. After waiting several more minutes and additionally being ignored by a female employee standing just feet away, I finally called to the guy that he could just give me a refund for the ice creams if he wasn't going to give me the food. In the meantime, the ice cream machine stood no more than a foot away from the employee.
Finally, frustrated, I asked to speak to a manager. The female employee told me there was no manager. I stupidly thought she was lying. I'd never heard of a restaurant operating with absolutely no management on staff at all, and it seemed especially weird during nighttime hours when it would seem more common for a place to have a serious problem. I finally realized the female employee was telling the truth that no manager existed at that McDonalds. It also became apparent that no manager bothers to ever review video camera footage that includes its own employees. I was relieved to see it looked like I would be getting my ice cream after all when I saw the male employee walk over to the machine. I was absolutely shell-shocked however when he handed me the cone and shoved the sundae across the counter, saying "here's your ice cream, motherfucker." Most females don't get called a "motherfucker" and most customers don't get called one either. I wasn't going to explain to him the impossibility of his statement. Despite the fact I hadn't made any reference to ever calling anywhere, the motherfucker statement was promptly followed by the McDonalds guy telling me, "You can call the corporate office and you can call the goddamned governor for all I care." With me still speechless, he followed that up with his own final goodbye that included a "fuck you" for the evening.
I actually hadn't planned to call the McDonald's corporate office, but after the employee's own suggestion, I did make that call. Maybe the most surprising fact is that, while many of the McDonalds restaurants are franchises, this particular location at 6345 Wilshire Boulevard is actually a corporate-owned location. It's also a McDonalds that serves up more than smiles. A customer can also look forward to a barrage of obscenities. Depending on your mood, the Wilshire McDonalds will offer up a night of comedy. You might want to bring a video camera to relive the experience.