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I was in a McDonalds recently, just about to get my happy meal on (head hanging in shame) when I witnessed something even more disturbing than my total loss of dignity to a sugar/carb craving. There was a little boy in line ahead of me (who we will call Damien for the sake of this article) who had “a fit”. I’m not a child psychiatrist, but I did take a developmental psychology course at BU in 2001, so I’m going to go ahead find myself qualified to diagnose Damien with ADHD.
Damien’s mother had ordered a McFish Filet, which anyone who frequents McDonalds should know is going to take a little bit longer at times because its not always “ready”.
I assume the McFish doesn’t sit well. Common sense tells me it can’t have the same turnover rate as a Big Mac, so they might have a policy of just waiting until someone orders it to make it.
Anyhoo… Damien decided that the wait was way too long.
Really, who can blame him?
I was certainly bouncing off the walls behind him, lusting in my heart with pornographic culinary fantasies about the naughty things I was about to do with my happy meal-- and I don’t even have...
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