Dear Female Employee at McDonalds,
I visited your place of business earlier this week, which is something that I rarely do. However, I wasn't having the best of days and decided that convenience weighed more on my Scale Of Importance than my cholesterol level. I opted to eat inside your establishment that is so loosely called a restaurant, which, the first being my choice of McDonalds over Burger King, proved to be my second mistake.
You see, had I gone to your competitor right across the street, I would have avoided this whole mess altogether. Alas, I chose your employer instead, and had the line at the drive-thru been not as long I would have missed interacting with you by means of a few degrees of separation. I strongly regret both of these decisions, because now I have to live with the memory of you until something more important comes along and replaces it.
I'm writing to you in these tones of frustration because you single-handedly coerced me to never again consider McDonalds as an option when looking for a quick meal. Your blank, apathetic stare from the behind the counter was unnerving as I browsed the menu. The rolling of your eyes when I requested "ketchup and pickles only, please" was both rude and immature, and I certainly didn't appreciate you tossing my soda cup at me. The seemingly intentional spillage of my fries on my tray was the straw that broke the camels back. The urge to reach over the counter and beat you with your Golden Arches visor was very strong, I assure you.
I'm sure you had your reasons why you were upset that day. Maybe it was the fact that you found out your boyfriend likes other guys more than he likes you. Maybe you were wearing your Thursday underwear despite it was a Tuesday. It could simply have been that you hate your job, but that doesn't give you the right to act immature and disrespectful, least of which to the paying customers who give your job a purpose.
I can sympathize a little with you, though, because I hate my job, too. However, I choose to internalize my hatred and drown it in alcohol and heavy metal music when my shift is over instead of directing it at the customers I interact with. I realize that working at McDonalds probably isn't the most enjoyable experience, but it beats the snot out of being unemployed. If you're not satisfied with your job, take control of your situation and get your McGED, already. With some time and effort, they might promote you to manager or something.
In closing, I want you to know that I look back at our interaction with great distaste. I'm regretting the time it has taken me to write this letter almost as much as I regret ever seeing you face to face. The fact that you had such an effect on me feels worse than my stomach did after leaving the restaurant. I hope you take my suggestions to heart, and know that I don't truly despise you as much as I say I do... Only about half as much.
Clearly not lovin' it,
P.S. Less than a week until the Contest deadline!