When I was in high school, I worked at McDonald’s, and eventually secured the primo position of Drive Thru First Window. In that spot, you only have to talk to people and collect money, and you rarely touch food, or clean up grease, or get your forearm branded by a white-hot fry basket.
Still, it got boring, so I used to amuse myself by using a heavy German accent when I was talking through the speaker. “Velcome to Mick Donaldtss!” I would greet each customer ponderously. “Und may I interrrrrest you in an Ahhhch Deluxe?” Everyone was invariably painfully courteous and patient while I struggled to take their order completely and accurately and to find my way around the presumably foreign jumble of cash register buttons that were not in my native tongue.
Then they would get up to the window, and I would just talk in my regular voice.
And I got away with it, too! No one ever said, “HEY, weren’t you just German a minute ago?” I have a distinctive croaky voice, too, so they must have known it was still me. Ha ha. Boy, I enjoyed that more than I should have.
Now you tell one. What did you get away with, you irresponsible scamp? (Reminder: bloggers are mandatory reporters. No murder confessions, please.)
