Billions and Billion NOT Being Served

My friend and I closed down a McDonald's today. We really did. It probably didn't really cost the location billions and billions of customers, but certainly dozens -- maybe hundreds because they're still closed.

I don't even know how to make this afternoon's happenings into some funny, funny, ha ha anecdote -- so I won't try. It's really too serious and quite upsetting so I'll just explain it all in the context of two ironies.

My friend and I thought we'd take the children to a dollar movie this afternoon. We thought it would be extra fun to have lunch at McD's first to allow new friends, Fifi(11yrs) and my friend's neice(10yrs) to get acquainted before having to sit still and quiet in a darkened theater. The younger children could get their wiggles out on the playscape.

I had some trouble ordering my food. The latina cashier didn't speak English very well and so when I ordered my Happy Meals with apples (did you know you can order apples instead of fries these days?) she charged me for both...only I didn't know that yet. When I tried to solicit the help of the gringa manager to make sense of the itemized receipt, she gave it a cursory glance and pronounced it correct. I said, "Really? $20 for 3 happy meals and a regular Big Mac combo?"

She just looked at me with what would be the first of a dozen times today she would employ a blank expression accompanied by various forms of the sentiment, "Thank you, ma'am. You've expressed your concern. Thank you."

In the end, I was right. She overcharged me nearly $4.00. When she tried to reimburse me, she handed me a receipt to sign. So I did. But then she demanded that I fill it out complete with address and phone. Indignant at this point, I scoffed and assured her that, "I am not going to give you my phone number and address! I paid in cash not 2 minutes ago, haven't left the counter, and besides -- this is y'all's fault."

She defended her cashier, and laid the blame on me for my poor ordering skills.

I'm afraid I rather bluntly pointed out the difficulty in communication. It may have sounded something like, "Well, no, it's because she can't speak English." (Which, without my latina children at my side, only served to make me look like the world's biggest racist.)

This was the first irony. That I, advocate of compassion for immigrants, should have my opinion solidified in such a brief moment. If you want to be a citizen here, work here in a way that requires you to conduct commerce from my wallet -- you ought to speak my language. (I didn't want to hurt feelings, so I did later approach and apologize to the worker, but I don't know how much she understood.)

Enter the playscape...or as my friend prophetically called it: the petri dish. There are a lot of things I expect the kids could possibly pick up at McD's: colds, coughs, maybe the occasional bout of diarrea or even e-coli. (I'm kidding...I hope.) We take reasonable precautions like eating first before playing and making the occasional pit-stop for a squirt of hand sanitizer.

Today, one of my friend's children found what looked like a piece of broken, blown glass. It was swirly with a blue liquid substance in it. I manned the purses and drinks while she went out to warn the workers that there was at least one piece of broken glass in the gymnasium. But then, she returned and started calling her children down. This was strange behavior from her. I'm the uptight one between us, so if she's calling her children down with a sense of urgency, something is wrong! wrong! WRONG!

Apparently, upon further investigation my friend found hundreds of little silver metallic balls all over the spiral steps inside the playscape. One guess what it was. Anyone remember anything about high-school science? What liquid solid separates and beads when touched? My friend knew. It was -- mercury! Yes, mercury. Ingested, inhaled kidney/liver/neurological toxin that arguably never, never leaves your body once it's made its way in. Mercury is one of the biggest reasons this friend has read extensively and speaks boldly to others about the inherent dangers of childhood vaccinations. This was the second irony.

Accidents happen. But tragically, so do ignorant managers. I tried for 10-20 minutes to convince this manager (the one I had the fight with earlier) that she had a very dangerous situation on her hands and that she needed to close the playscape room and call someone.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"No. Really. This is potentially very dangerous." (My friend might have even mentioned something about children dying from exposure. I don't remember if that was aloud in the moment or in recalling it amongst ourselves in the parking lot out of earshot of the children.) While she took the six children in her charge to join mine for a hand-washing in the restroom, I called 911 because I was pretty sure management hadn't, and that they hadn't any plans to. I was right again.

While we waited around for the fire department, the manager did evacuate the gymnasium, but only long enough for her workers to go in with brooms and wipe-cloths to clean up what should have required hooded white suits, gloves and respirators. I tried, in vain, to caution one of the female workers to not go in there -- that it was dangerous; but she looked at me with an empty stare, and I assumed she was blowing me off in loyalty to her angry manager. I would later find out from the Hazardous Management Team that in truth, she could not understand me. She doesn't speak any English either. The first responders on the scene were most worried about her. I hope she will be o.k. I hope someone more than her manager will look out for her.

After some initial investigation by the local fire department, the play area was cleared out, and then on the recommendation of HazMat -- which was on the way -- the whole restaurant was evacuated to the sidewalk. Later, as we discussed the chain of contamination, we decided that the socks our children were wearing in the gym were likely dangerous, and since they had put them in their shoes -- now the shoes had to go too. We've since thrown away the clothes they were wearing as well. They may need blood tests to measure if and how much exposure, but I don't know what can possibly be done anyway? It sounds a little like Meryl Streep in Silkwood, doesn't it?

Besides all this is the post-tramatic stress that my bookend girls, Fifi(11yrs) and Cuddlebug(3yrs) are suffering. They both expressed concern on the scene that they were going to die. I assured them they were fine, and that we were just trying to arrange to get them some new footwear. Dumpling(6yrs) wasn't phased -- for her, it's been all about seeing herself on the evening news!

Here's a rounded breakdown of how much those 3 Happy Meals and a Big Mac Combo really cost me:

$16.00 food and drink for 4
$45.00 3 pair of girls' shoes
$ 4.00 3 pair of girls' socks removed without gloves -- oops!
$ 2.00 1 gallon of water for hand-washing in the parking lot
$ 2.00 1 bottle of Palmolive for hand-washing
$ 4.00 6-pack of drinking water for sitting in sweltering heat
$30.00 Fifi's jeans and top
$ 4.00 Dumpling's thrift-store, polka-dotted dress
$13.00 Cuddlebug's denim skirt and t-shirt
$60.00 Doctor's deductible's for appointment on Monday
$30.00 Two toddler car boosters
$10.00 After dinner ice cream to comfort children

Grand total...$220.00...not exactly a feel-good credit card commercial.

And, here are some pictures of today's mess...



This is a macro picture I took of a few stray mercury beads that the firemen found between and under the steps after the worker came through and cleaned. See them? Look closely, they're small.









Here is the manager who listened well in McDonald's management class the day they taught her to say, "Thank you ma'am. You've expressed your concern."







Here is my friend showing the firemen where she found the mercury. And hey! They believed her!







Here is one of those same firemen telling the manager that this is potentially very dangerous and that they are closing down the playscape and they have called someone.








Here is the evacuation. Children. Parents. Fire crews. Workers. Even the manager.








Losing the socks and the shoes they were in.









Saying good bye to the shoes.







Epilogue: Cuddlebug (our thumb-sucker) got an ALL CLEAR on her blood test for mercury. Praise the Lord! Poison Control even suggests that we can keep the clothes and just wash them. Yay! This is not thought to be the very dangerous type of mercury that all involved (except the manager) were concerned it could be. Praise the Lord again!