The McDonald's Connection

While at work, food supplies are usually scarce. Given the choice of unappetizing, tasteless hospital fare - what I term hardly fit for human consumption, sometimes it's preferable to remain hungry rather than take your chances with Unrecognizable Pre-colonial Leftover Lasagna. Unfortunately other than the drab diet doled out to us on sterile metal trays, there's not much in terms of choice when it comes to food - unless we brave ourselves to stomach what's being served in the darkened depths of the cafeteria.

Occasionally due to popular demand ( actually the mournful cries of the starving medical staff at work ), the medical attendants are obliged to go out in search of sustenance on their trusty steeds. Nowadays food delivery's a viable option but even then there's not much variety. Abroad - courtesy of the desperately hungry, hard-working immigrants such as Ah Chin and Ali, we might have the choice of egg foo yong and the ever present tandoori chicken but over here we are only left with the ubiquitous pizzas and burgers since no one else delivers.

The frequency I make that call for a McDonald's delivery was made quite apparent to me when I dropped by for a quick milkshake. Although Mr Alfalfa-Sprout himself, Big Bicep Barry, shook his head in silent condemnation while muttering some platitudes on a healthy diet, he was forced to accompany me to that disreputable den of fast food iniquity since he'd kept some of my CDs hostage for a quite sometime.

When I approached the counter for payment, the unexpectedly friendly chorus of calls that greeted me - by name and designation - had me shrinking to the ground in embarassment. WTF? Calling me DOCTOR in public?! For a crazy moment, I imagined they'd all somehow been patients of mine with some mysterious illness but such a malady affecting the whole lot would certainly have made the national news - if not guaranteeing instant closure of the family restaurant.

McStaff : Has been a long time since you ordered delivery, doctor!
Paul : OMG. I .. I..

Seriously, it's hard to speak coherently when half the patrons of McDonald's have swivelled their heads to appreciate the dramatic scene. Even the usually gregarious Barry seemed a bit stunned by the unwanted atention and had surreptitiously faded silently into the indistinguishable background - quite a feat for a man his size!


With those abs, bet he has never taken a milkshake!
Took a while to detach myself from the unexpected fan club but I managed to convince them that I wasn't into signing autographs on their aprons. Obviously I've been tipping the delivery boys a bit too much. After managing to flee the scene with my fatty grease-laden goods, I circled the restaurant with my order before taking cover in a relatively secluded portion behind a large pillar.

Barry : You order delivery? That often?
Paul : Not that often! Really!
Barry : Lying!
Paul : Maybe once a week? Not sure how they can recall!
Barry : Sigh. You do know how much calories...
Paul : Calories. Cholesterol. Bla bla bla...
Barry : Just so you know! Why McDonalds?
Paul : Because KFC doesn't deliver?

I think he almost choked.

And then he sipped on his lonely cup of orange juice while I supersized myself on my apple pie, nuggets and chocolate milkshake. Kept a surreptitious eye around and prayed really hard that no one there would choke on a chicken bone.

Still I'm obviously lovin' it.