Hey, Sauce Nazi, It's Time for a Little Chat...

My Come to Jesus Talk with the McDonald’s Sauce Nazi

If you must insist on charging me 15 cents for BBQ sauce, I must insist on asking you to place it in the bag.

I’m down with the whole economy-thing.  I know times are tough.  I’m not complaining because you insist on charging a whopping 15 pennies for your tangy, delicious BBQ sauce.  I’m fired up because the BBQ sauce never seems to make it into the bag. 

Now, after the first time I arrived home to find my BBQ sauce missing, I learned my lesson.  The next visit to your not-so-fast fast food drive-thru, I made sure to ask, “and the BBQ’s in the bag?” to which I was assured, it was, in fact, in the bag.

Upon further investigation, I discovered it was once again missing.  Time and time again, I’ve been charged the fee of 15 cents for invisible, tasteless BBQ.  As frustrated as I have been, calling to complain seemed an even bigger waste of my time.  But, then, at what point does this issue blossom into a full-fledged Come to Jesus-chat-worthy experience, you wonder?

Well, I’ll tell you.

First and foremost, you should know the following: I have been a faithful patron of the value meal for quite some time.  I’ve even visited your McD’s mecca.  That’s right.  I went to the McDonald’s Museum located in Des Plaines, more than once.  I even read every single wall plaque about the great Ray A. Kroc while there.   Ididn’t hesitate in returning to consume Quarter Pounders and Big Macs for any longer than one month after watching “Super Size Me”, I’ll have you know.  And, when those girls decided to sue you for making scrumptious, greasy burgers with less than zero nutritional value that they simply couldn’t resist overindulging in, I was on your side.

But today, today, my Sauce Nazi not-really-a-friend, today was the last straw.

I arrived between the lunch and dinner hours at your state-of-the-art, brand spankin’ new drive-thru excited to munch on some delicious BBQ-coated fries, ordered, and then was brutally rebuffed to hear you were “out of BBQ sauce.” 

What?  What?  How could this be?

Next, 30 seconds of my valuable time was vacuumed from my life due to having to decide between the other available sauce choices, which, by the way, aren’t that great.

Frustrated over this new development, I frantically contemplated how my French fry experience for the day was ruined.  Ruined!  And what else could possibly go wrong in light of this tragedy?  In doing so, I forgot to ask and/or check the bag for my sub-par, costly honey mustard.  Arrg!  Dumb, dumb mistake.

And guess what.  When I arrived home… (drum roll please) no sauce.  Are you kidding me?  Seriously?

Sauce Nazi, you may be in charge of charging for the sauce, but I have a GPS that says there’s another McDonald’s .07 miles from your location.  So, ha.  I’ll be traveling to that McDonald’s for at least the next week or two, partly because gas is expensive, but mostly because I’m just lazy. 

Either way, that gives you time to think about what you’ve done.  And maybe, just maybe, you’ll think long and hard about it and change your ways.  If not, my GPS says there’s also a McDonald’s 1.2 miles from your location I can test out.