I don’t expect much when I go into a fast food restaurant. The performance bar is lower than a professional limbo contest. Hey, if there are croquet tournaments, professional limbo has to be at least on the radar. No matter. What I’m saying is that when I walk into a fast food joint, I consider it a successful visit if service and food balance out at totally forgettable – as non impacting in any way, positive or negative, as the mind numbing hours of late night TV playing in the background while I work.
Lately, however, you’d think the “service technicians” at the fast food counters had been taking insensitivity training. I always wondered what happened to the work force not qualified for customer abuse at public utility help desks. This week, I know. These people have no identifiable skill sets, can only count as high as the number of value meals there are on the “menu”, and personalities Ed Wood wouldn’t have cast in a walk-on part.
We’re talking total Meat Robots. Walking flesh ill programmed for even simple tasks. These work units wouldn’t score higher on the Turing Test than my toaster – which, for the record, is NOT network capable, microchip enhanced, or blue-tooth enabled.
Do I have anything nice to say about the growing number of Meat Robots in the workplace? Umm, well, some of their prison tattoos are actually quite artistic! Oh yeah, and they mostly remember to wear hair nets over their mullets!
Hmm, but they do work the 24-hour drive-thru’s and all this rambling has made me a little hungry. Maybe if I just talk a little slower this time…