Thursday, November 4, 2010
Just when you think you've seen it all, you see some more. I've written before about how I not only love the McRib sandwich, but how it tends to be too hastily made to really be considered a "sandwich." I doubt I'll have reason to ever complain about that again.
I really do love when McRib time rolls around. I frankly don't care how bad they are for me, I will not stop eating them. Ever. So it was with a certain degree of delight and trepidation that circumstances necessitated picking up dinner at our nearest McDonald's tonight. Delight because, well, McRib. And trepidation because our nearest McDonald's is the "ghetto McDonald's."
We call it that because we bought a house in a, well, less than savory neighborhood. (Don't ask why. Please.) This McDonald's is the only fast food close enough that we can consider it fast. Fast to get there, that is.
This McDonald's has a history of having less-than-(fill-in-the-blank) employees. You know that joke where people say if you can't find a job anywhere else, McDonald's will hire you? This is the McDonald's that does. I doubt a double-digit IQ is required for employment. (For fun, hand them a few pennies after they've opened the till, and watch their eyes freeze like a deer caught in the headlights.)
Believe it or not, I'm really trying to be kind here, though I'm not sure why.
Look, a McRib is a no-brainer. It's an oblong pork patty on an oblong bun, a crap-ton of BBQ sauce, and hopefully some onion and pickles in the vicinity. So imagine my non-surprise when I pulled this from the sack:
Okay, I'll admit two things: it did taste like any other McRib, and they were probably the least-messy McRibs I've ever had. Still, just not quite right.