Dear McDonald’s, WTF Do You Have Against Breakfast?

Dear McDonald’s,

Are you people retarded? For some reason, anytime I try ordering breakfast at a McDonald’s after 10:30am, I can’t get it–something about having to “get ready for lunch.” (Sorry, but not all of us are 78-years-old and get up at 4:30 in the f**kin’ morning.) Now, I’m not quite sure what you have against serving breakfast, or what kind of crack you’re smoking, but whatever it is, this bullsh*t has got to stop.

First, let me fill you in on a little secret–the only thing worth eating at your “restaurant” is breakfast. At the very least, it’s the best thing you serve–when you serve it. But as it stands, I end up in the same idiotic argument every time I walk through your double-doors on sixth avenue–both covered with big green signs boasting “Breakfast till 11AM,” I might add.

Normally uncrowded at this time, I walk right up to the counter where I’m greeted by a half-alive button-jockey who couldn’t give a f**k less what I have to say.

“Hi, I’d like two sausage biscuit meals with sweet tea, two chicken biscuits and three chocolate chip cookies,” I say, hoping for the best.

“Uh…we…uh, one second,” the heavy-eyed 19-year-old says, without fail. I already know what’s coming.

“We don’t have any sausage biscuits left,” he says, shuffling back.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, sir. We’re out.”

“No, you’re not out. This is McDonald’s you’re never out. Now please, make me my food.”

“We’re out, sir.”

“You’re not out. You have an entire freezer of food in the back. Make me my food.” At this point, the ugly polo-shirted, half-there-schmuck stops paying attention to me entirely, deflecting my demands to the manager who’s closely ignoring the whole thing with her face crammed in a three-ring binder. Feeling what I can only imagine is some sort of middle manager version of The Force, she immediately looks up in my direction.

“Sir, it’s 10:45,” the manager says to me after I repeat my audacious request for food.

“Yes, exactly. That’s before 11am!”

“I know sir, but there’s not room.”

“No room? Look, I don’t give a sh*t about room. You have signs everywhere advertising ‘Breakfast till 11am'” I say in a subdued rage, while pointing around at the 15 or so signs proving me correct. “Now make me my food.”

“Ok–but you’ll have to wait for it to cook,” she says, to add the last stipulation.

Of course I’ll have to wait for my food to cook, I think to myself, forgetting that McDonald’s is only “fast food” because you reverse the ordering process, making the food before the customer tells you they want it. Which is why we’re in this whole bind in the first place.

If you would just stand by your word and actually serve breakfast until 11:00, I could deal. But instead, you shut down the best part of your menu fifteen minutes early to make room for the mediocre horse sh*t you serve the rest of the day.

How about this for an idea: serve breakfast the whole time, non-stop. I know you might have to cut down on your half-assed burger production, but who gives a sh*t? A chicken biscuit and a couple of hash browns blow that other crap out of the water.

The absurd thing is, I’m writing you this letter because I’m trying to be a customer. I would never get tired of McDonald’s if you served breakfast all day. But as it stands, I’m stuck throwing my flailing arms down in failure, turning and walking out the doors without my food, realizing that it’s just some greese-filled suedo-food that’s just going to give me the sh*ts in a couple of hours, anyway…

So the next time you send out a company training memorandum or whatever the hell you do, please tell all the dickwads running your restaurants to serve breakfast all the way till 11. And when you implement your “Breakfast All Day!” campaign and make a butt-load of cash, I’ll be expecting at least a thank you.

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