May I Take Your Order?”
A long, long time ago, in a neighborhood far, far away, I decided to hit my local fast food joint’s drive-thru to place an order. The implications of that particular order are extensive. So extensive that you are about to read an essay concerning that order. I was on a quest to order a single item, not a single set of items….not a single combo meal….one….single…item….a milkshake. On this day there must have been a rush on milkshakes as I was told that I would have to pull forward into one of the “drive-thru-parking-spaces” because my order would “take some time.”
The whole concept of “drive-thru-parking-spaces” is a complete oxymoron; but that’s another rant for another day that would also “take some time” and fortunately for you, I don’t have some “time to take.” That’s the reason I’m using the drive-thru in the first place.
However, when you need a milkshake, you need a milkshake. I was desparate. What could I do but shrug my shoulders, smile and pull into one of these alleged “drive-thru-parking-spaces.” It was there that I could engage in an impatient, slow burn, seethe that would last for an eternity (actual wait time: less than five minutes). Once the attendant cheerfully walked out with my milkshake, she handed it to me and told me to “have a nice day.” I thanked her through pressed lips and moved on. It was now just me and my milkshake. As I’m driving away I take my first sip only to realize that my order has been screwed up.
“Are you serious?”
I was tempted to go back and complain, but then that meant I was going to have to “go inside.” The major reason I was using the drive-thru in the first pace was to avoid having to “go inside.” It just wasn’t worth it. Besides, as I was hesitant to admit, whatever they gave me was delicious. It was some sort of iced frappuccino thing. I was never into the coffee scene so I didn’t know what it was. Over the coming weeks I would try in vain to identify exactly what it was that I had received on that fateful day….alas….it was not to be. Several presidential administrations later I still look back on that caffeinated, ice mocha, choice bomb, whatever-it-was with fond rememberance.
That was also the day that awoke my conscience to the idea that the “drive-thru” may be a fatally flawed concept.
Perhaps the best aspects of the “drive-thru-experience” are also it’s worst aspects. I don’t have to be hassled by face to face interaction. I can just pay, be fed and be on my way. I don’t have to feign interest in some stranger’s life just because I let my guard down for a minute. I can avoid unwanted interactions with guys who wear bib overalls and keep their teeth in their pocket. I don’t have to put on a fake smile for the person behind the counter. I don’t have to stand around awkwardly while people fill my order. If I go through the drive-thru I can have as little interaction as possible AND I can drive away before anyone has a chance to ask me any questions.
“Where are you going?”…”What are you doing?”…or the dreaded “Do you want some company?” question. Oooh…..I hate that one.
Secretly though, my favorite part about the drive-thru is that: nobody will be able to “see my shoes.”
It kind of makes me wish we had more drive-thru options in life. How about drive-thru schools? What about drive-thru doctor’s offices? Here’s an idea: a drive-thru gym. I’m not sure how that would work. Maybe I’m just being ridiculous; but as long as I’m being ridiculous, how about drive-thru family reunions? Wait a sec….I’ve got an idea. How about if we combine the “drive-thru-restaurant-experience” with the “church-experience?” Think about that for a minute. How “cool” would it be if I could pull up to my church’s ordering kiosk to “place my order.” I picture the island that I roll up to as having a statue of Jesus standing there with his arms held out in a welcoming manner as if he’s saying, “Come….eat with me.” Of course, what you really hear is the faint voice of the host, who is about to take your order, through the crackle of a two dollar radio shack speaker wedged inside of Jesus’ mouth.
Host: “Welcome to McChurchy’s……may I take your order?”
Me: “Yeah….can I get a shekel-pounder with cheese and some “bone of my boneless” wings?
Host: “Yes sir, you certainly can…would you also like to try our new promotional item….it’s a meatless matzoh burger!”
Me: “Uh…not really….”
Host: “Are you sure? It’s made WITHOUT eleven herbs OR spices…and it’s flame broiled!”
Me: “So…it’s basically a burnt cracker?”
Host: “Just as if God commanded a bolt of lightning and smoked it himself…yes sir!”
Me: “Uh, I think I’ll pass. I would, however, like to try one of those “whopping scapegoat burgers”…and can I get that WITHOUT “scapegoat cheese?””
Host: “Would you like anything at all on it?”
Me: “Can I get some secret sauce on it?”
Host: “Oh, I’m sorry sir, this is McChurchy’s…we don’t have any secrets.”
Me: “Uh, okay. If that’s the case, let me just get some french fries.”
Host: “French fries? Hmmm? Let me check with my manager.”
Me: “Check with your manager? What do you mean? I don’t get it? Hello?…..Hello?”
At this moment there would be a long pause that would probably be punctuated by the guy in line behind me laying on his horn. Then the returning host would say:
Host: “I’m sorry sir, we don’t serve “french fries” here. My manager has informed me that potatoes are “of the devil.” We are, however, prepared to offer you a side of ribs.”
Me: “Ribs? At a fast food place? Sure, why not?”
Host: “Sir, I must tell you that your order will be one rib short.”
Me: “One rib short? Okay, fine…whatever.”
Host: “That will be 11.34….please pay at the first window.”
Maybe it’s a good thing that churches don’t run fast food joints. I still maintain that the whole “drive-thru-concept” is flawed to begin with….but….that hasn’t stopped it’s proliferation in America. Mostly because people like me are still wooed by its charms. We’ve got drive-thru banks, drive-thru convenience stores, drive-thru pharmacies, drive-thru funeral parlors, drive-thru wedding chapels. Based on the USA’s love affair with the car, combined with its infatuation of sitting in front of a screen, I’m surprised that the “drive-in-theater-concept” is fading in the rear view mirror of Americana…and yet…I would NOT be surprised by the concept of a drive-thru church. Hahaha….a drive-thru church! Haha…..sigh…..oh dear.
The cold hard reality has just hit me. I believe I may already be ahead of the game in this area.
I DO treat my church….like a drive-thru.
I keep everybody at an arms length. I’m kind of disinterested, I’m usually in a hurry, I’m not too particular about my order. Anytime I use a “drive-thru” I’m decidedly NOT in the market for anything healthy….I just pull in, grab some “nourishment” and get away quickly…as if I had committed a crime (I’m fully aware of the irony of this reference as I write this from prison).
I treated my church like a drive-thru by coming in late, sitting in the back row and then leaving early. I was “staying-in-the-car” so to speak. I didn’t want to interact with anyone or allow them to see my “grease stained shirt” or my “dirt caked shoes”. If these people really knew what I was like they probably would have preferred that I actually did stay in my car. Maybe I wasn’t alone as I noticed many others sitting there with me in the back row. I was stained by the world, stained by my own hypocrisy….perhaps if I had treated my church life more seriously I wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like this.
Ordering a “happy fun time” burger and a “silo of soda” through a clown’s mouth at McChurchy’s makes me think about some of the stupid things I have not only done, but asked God for over the years.
Great…now my prayer life has become something akin to a fast food drive-thru order…that’s just perfect. If I’m honest with myself I will have to concede they ARE similar. In my private prayer life I can ask God for whatever I want and not be judged by my fellow human….in the same manner when I’m alone in my car at the drive-thru I will not suffer judgment when I order an “ark-load of fries.” When I’m alone I will ask God to “bless these deep fried onion rings and ranch dressing to the nourishment of my body.” Is God laughing at me? I don’t know. I did order “lite” ranch dressing. So that’s something….right? I’m beginning to wonder now. My prayer life may be getting a bit “unchecked.”
Maybe I need to get out of the car and actually “go in” instead of continuing this whole drive-thru routine. I’m starting to think I may be doing more harm than good.
As you may have detected, my biggest fear about “going in” verses “using the drive thru” is the fear of judgment. I’m self-conscious about my filthy rags and my worn-out shoes. I imagine all of the people “on the inside” being fixated on the plethora of shortcoming that is “my life” AND I imagine those people being all too willing to point them out. I imagine my first trip inside might play out something like this:
Host: “Hello, welcome to McChurchy’s, may I take your order?”
Me: “Yes, I’d like to get a “famine buster platter” with a side salad.
Host: “I’m sorry sir, are you being serious about the salad or are you just being ironic?”
Me: “Um….no….I really did want a side salad.”
Host: “Of course sir, it’s just with those grease stained clothes and your obvious well crafted burger eating physique, I thought you would have scrapped the salad and opted to upsize to a side of “Goliath burgers.”
Me: “Um, well….thanks? I think.”
Host: “Frankly we’re surprised to see you in here at all. I bet the rest of the staff thought you’d never get off your fat ass and actually come in here. I guess I can kiss that ten bucks good-bye. I bet you’d like some onion rings with that too, wouldn’t you?”
Me: “Um…yeah…kind of. You know, I could give you the ten dollars if it would help out…”
Host: “Oh you’re just a regular “knight in shining armor,” aren’t you? At this point the “Host” behind the counter would turn to yell over her shoulder to another judgmental staff member.
Host: “Hey Bernice, fatso here just offered to pay me the ten dollars I owe you.”
Bernice: “Get out! He did not! Hey…make sure to tell me about his shoes!”
Host: “Girl! There are not enough hours in the day!”
The “Host” would then turn her attention back towards me.
Host: “What’s the real reason you’re in here anyway? Are you feeling guilty about something?”
Me: “Uh, not exactly. Well kind of. I don’t know.”
Host: “Are you sure you’re not just in here to get that free bucket of “living soda” with the purchase of one of our “five loaves/two fishes” combo meals?”
Me: “Oh wow…that sounds pretty good!”
Host: “I bet you’re really in here so you can drop crumbs and make a mess at OUR table instead of inside that precious car of yours!”
Me: “Precious car?!?!….It’s a ’78 Pinto!”
Host: “Oh…so now you’re an automotive expert too?”
Me: “Look, can I just get my meal and sit down?”
Host: “I suppose….that’ll be $11.34…and no personal checks!”
Me: “No one’s going to spit in my drink, are they?”
[Long awkward pause………………………]
Host: “No.”
I’m so apprehensive about “going in” that I will put up with all of the distractions and confusion that are inherent in the drive-thru experience. Horns honking, people yelling, the rattling of loose parts on my Pinto, doubt as to whether or not the host can hear me or is even paying attention at all. Then, of course, there’s the speaker system that makes the host sound like she’s speaking in tongues.
But perhaps the worse distraction of all was the “fussy car pool coworker.” My “car pool coworkers” always seemed to be a bit lethargic, somewhat distracted and I don’t think any one of them ever had money on them when we went up to the drive-thru. The easiest way to ruin the already tenuous, mildly unstable experience of the drive-thru was to add one of these people into the mix. It was in these situations that my deep planted “seeds of aversion” to the drive-thru concept began to germinate. Was all of this confusion and hassle really worth the effort just to save a few minutes? I was beginning to wonder.
Right now it was too late to second guess myself. “Bob-from-accounting” is with me as the drive-thru speaker at McChurchy’s crackles to life.
Host: “Mallomb is crunchy and pays with fake water.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Host: “Welcome to McChurchy’s, may I take your order?”
Me: “Oh, ok…it seems like your speaker could use some work.”
Host: “My knees would be weaker if I worse a short skirt?!?”
This is about the time that a squeal, of Biblical proportions, caused by microphone feedback would attract the attention of every dog within a two mile radius.
Host: “Ok…sorry about that…what can I get for you?”
Me: “Yeah…I’d like to get two “burgers apocalypse,” one with “the works” and one without any “works.”
Host: “You know sir, the one with “the works” has absolutely no added nutritional value.
Me: “Yeah? Well….whatever. I don’t care. It’s for my friend…who, by the way wants a “Hallelujah meal” for his kid.”
Host: “Does your friend have a boy or a girl?”
Me: “I don’t know…and I can’t ask him either….he’s on his phone….just give him whatever.”
Host: “Oh, no….sir…I can’t just “give him whatever.” I need to know if he has a boy or a girl. This is “McChurchy’s” and we don’t offer gender neutral “Hallelujah meals” here.”
Me: “Uh…in that case he has a boy.”
Host: “Will there be anything else today?”
Me: “Can we get a “Red Sea soda” and a “nectar of Nineveh” coffee?”
Host: “I reckon the widow has fleas…you horrible dirty whore.”
Me: “I’m sorry? What did you call me?”
(more really loud microphone feedback)
Host: “Second window please….your total is 11.34.
Me: “Oh, yeah…okay thanks.”
Looking back, the confusion caused by these drive-thru distractions could be seen as comical. But the aftermath of these “less-than-desirable-multiple-people-in-the-car” drive-thru experiences was always disappointing. As we pull away from the window my conversation with “fussy coworker” begins.
Me: “Hey Fussy, could you hold my coffee for me? Be careful, with this stuff….you may get burnt.”
Fussy: “Oh yeah, really?”
Me: “Yeah, it says on the cup: “caution: contents may be hotter than the firey pits of Satan’s eternal burning hell.””
Fussy: “It does not say that!”
Me: “Here, look.”
Fussy: “Woah…it does say that!”
Fussy then begins to ruffle through the bag.
Fussy: “Hey, where are our hamburgers? And why did we get two boxes of taco chips?”
Me: “Ugh, we were supposed to get two “burgers Apocalypse”…did they at least get the Hallelujah meal correct?”
Fussy: “Why on earth did they give me a “Sampson” action figure with Kung Fu grip? Where in the world did they get the idea that I have a son?”
Me: “Uh, I don’t know.”
Fussy: “My daughter is just going to have to deal with it. At least they got my Red Sea soda right.”
Fussy takes a sip.
Fussy: “Agggghhh it’s diet!”
My coworker’s disappointed surprise causes him to spill my coffee. It’s a good thing it didn’t hit anybody on the way down because the coffee was so hot it caused the soles of my shoes to fuse to the floorboards of my Pinto.
What a disaster!
With that, I decided my next trip to McChurchy’s was going to be different. The “drive-thru experience” had, more or less, run it’s course with me. My hurried and distant lifestyle had only led to confusion and problems. For my next trip to McChurchy’s I decided I was going to take my time. I had been avoiding the “face-to-face” experience for my whole life. I had been avoiding letting people see me. I mean REALLY see me. The “drive-thru experience” was no longer worth the effort. I had deceived myself into believing that it was a functional substitute for “going in.”
This next trip to McChurchy’s I was going to avoid all of the distractions and problems the drive-thru provided. This time I would surrender my laziness, my self-consciousness and my hurried approach to life.
This time……I would go inside.
Immediately upon walking in a smile crossed my face when I noticed the restrooms were labeled as: “hymns” and “hers.” I tentatively headed toward the host at the counter to place my order. He greeted me warmly.
Host: “Welcome to McChurchy’s…may I take your order?”
It had been quite some time, if ever, that I encountered a person who was so eager to serve a complete stranger. Little did I know that this person would become a good friend to me in the years ahead. As he, and several other people “congregated,” to help fill my order, he said to me:
Host: “If you need anything else at all….be sure to let me know.”
It was at this moment I began to feel that I may in fact have MANY monumental needs that have nothing to do with food.
Host: “Your total is 11.34.”
Me: “Why is it that no matter what I order, how much I order or how many people I order for….my total is always eleven dollars and thirty-four cents?”
Host: “Oh that’s easy sir…it’s because here at McChurchy’s we’ve turned “hell” upside down.” (11.33 = hEll)
Me: “Uh…okay…if you say so.”
At first I didn’t understand that, but eventually I got it.
With that, the Host, who I would soon know as “Paul”, invited me to take a seat in the dining area. He also made it known that I was welcome to stay for as long as I needed or wished. The atmosphere in that dining area, or “sanctuary” as I would come to call it, was warm and inviting. There was a whole host of people who were already in the room enjoying their meal and ALL of them welcomed me in. There were people in there that “looked like me.” There were people in there that “looked nothing like me” and there were peole everywhere in between. I was somewhat surprised to find myself recognizing many of the faces of people who had once been my fellow customers in the drive-thru lane. As I walked toward an open table (that seemed to have my name on it) I was greeted with smiles and handshakes and a countless number of people who were willing to “share their food” with me. I did not feel worthy of these people’s company just yet. That would change with time; but as for right now? It was time for me to sit down…and “eat.”
******** *********
As I finished my meal and got ready to leave I noticed that I had not received any of the judgment I had been fearing. In fact, between all of the welcoming smiles, open arms and friendly servants I felt that the people of McChurchy’s were only disappointed with me insofar that I had not come in to be with them sooner.
When I walked through the exit and back out onto the street to all of the hustle and bustle, I had a noted bit of compassion for all of the people who seemed to be missing out on the “drive-in experience.” I had a deeper, more pointed sympathy for all of the people that continued to line up at the drive-thru window. They were so close, yet still so far away.
It was then that I looked down and had a startling revelation. While I was inside McChurchy’s, not a single soul had noticed my shoes…not even myself.
