I pull up to the drive-thru with caffeine dreams and a wallet full of regret. The AI greets me with forced cheer: “Welcome to McDonald’s! Are you using the app today?” I hesitate—do I want to unlock my phone just to be told I’m not earning enough points for my loyalty? I mutter “no,” and the speaker sighs like it’s judging my life choices. The menu screen flickers—prices climb faster than my blood pressure—and suddenly, a hash brown costs more than a gallon of gas.
As I try to order, the digital chaos begins. Ronald McDonald pops up like a glitchy avatar, beaming as if I’ve just joined a cult of convenience. Grimace lumbers in, clutching a melting McFlurry, while the Fry Kids chant like caffeinated gremlins, and the Hamburglar hacks my order to add a “Robble Robble Discount” that somehow costs extra. Then comes the corporate heartbreak: “Our soda machine is down,” the AI chirps, “but would you like a bottled water for $3.89?” Grimace drops his dessert in grief. Even Ronald looks shaken.
Finally, I pay. An act of surrender more than purchase. The display shows: “Order confirmed!