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Classic, long-running fast-food chain known for its burgers & fries.
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Reviews
To make it worse, when the food finally came, it didn’t even look like food. Cold, sloppy, and just thrown together like it was an afterthought. Never coming back.
The only person who was even a little helpful was the girl with the red braid — she was the only one who showed any sign of effort. Other than that, it was a total disaster. This location seriously needs new management or an entirely new staff. Do better.
The speaker crackled — a sharp, eerie static, like something breathing through wires.
Then came the voice.
Jamie.
The night-shift manager.
Or whatever he becomes after dark.
We politely said we had three separate orders. He didn’t greet us. Didn’t acknowledge us. Just released a flat, dead-inside “go ahead” that sounded like it crawled up from the basement of that McDonald’s.
We thought maybe he didn’t hear, so we repeated it.
That was our mistake.
The tone he fired back with could’ve sent chills down a ghost’s spine:
“If I say go ahead, that means go ahead with your order.”
Sharp. Cold. Like each word was meant to cut.
We started ordering — carefully, like we were trying not to set something off — and mid-sentence he slashed through the silence again:
“Anything else?”
Not curious. Not helpful.
More like a “hurry up before something worse happens.”
By the time we reached the second order, the atmosphere in the car shifted. It felt heavier. The kind of heavy where you start glancing around, wondering if you accidentally disturbed something.
I ordered my 10-piece. Jamie responded like he’d been summoned for the third time in a ritual he despised, every answer dripping with irritation and a strange, unnatural monotone.
But the plot twist came when someone asked for a Sprite.
Just Sprite.
Jamie’s reply oozed out of the speaker like a threat:
“We don’t got it.”
We laughed — not because it was funny, but because it felt unreal.
Sprite is literally a Coke product.
But Jamie didn’t laugh. Or explain. Or clarify.
He just repeated himself with the tone of someone who’d haunt your dreams for questioning him.
By the time we pulled up to the window, we finally saw him — and honestly, the silence in that moment was louder than his voice had ever been. Blank expression. Zero regret. Zero accountability. Just the presence of someone who had long since stopped caring.
We tried to address the attitude — genuinely.
But he stared back at us like we were characters in his personal nightmare, and he was tired of the scene.
Then came the final reveal — the horror-movie twist ending:
“I’m the manager.”
Delivered with the pride of someone who fully understood how terrifying that reality was.
I still cannot comprehend how someone with that level of hostility and bone-deep rudeness is representing McDonald’s — let alone leading a shift. What should’ve been a simple food run turned into a psychological thriller we didn’t sign up for.
My husband said he wanted 2 if a number and he realized it was what he said was wrong and tried to correct it and told the man and he began to argue with him and would not discuss and told him to drive forward twice. When we got to window he continued to tell us what we said in the rudest way. I began to cry and screamed at him that we had just lost our mom and could not believe we were being treated to rude. I told him to take our money and he could toss the food. He was a black man and I’m pretty sure he was a manager by his dress. He did repeat and told him to read screen but my 70 year old husband is not use to drive ups and didn’t realize it was wrong until he gave total and knew it was wrong. After I u got so upset he said I’m sorry and changed the order. He needs to be fired fired fired. Please listen to cameras if they have them. Tonight around 10 pm