There is this woman, and I wish to make this clear, though I call her Grandma June, she is NOT my grandma. She is my great uncle Loren’s wife’s mother. So, not my relative, in spite of the name.
All my elderly female relatives can be fairly easily divided into 3 distinct categories:
1. Mean as a badger (potentially as hairy).
2. Crazy, crazy, crazy.
3. Dotty and senile.
Grandma June is of the first group. After she retired she was pretty bored, so she decided to get a job at McDonald’s. (Which I might digress again to say that this would not be my first choice, but different strokes etc.) You can picture a wrinkled grey elderly woman in her red visor and matching polo ensemble cheerfully making burgers or taking money, if that makes you happy. However that is in no way related to what actually happened.
Grandma June became the Crazy McDonald’s Lady. Her sole job is to prowl the dining area making sure that it is clean and that there are always straws, little white stir sticks, and ketchup. She yells at people who are noisy or leave a mess or waste napkins. She terrorizes the local teens who use the McDonald’s as a hangout or meeting place. She rousts the homeless and trouble makers with her snappy white towel and fierce words.
Once when my cousin David (who actually is June’s real grandchild) and I were at some party as teenagers someone came in with a McDonald’s cup. He began to say that he went to McDonalds, when some other person jumped in and said, “Oh no! Did the Crazy McDonald’s Lady get you?” At which point we felt fairly obligated to tell them that she was our grandma in order to save later embarrassment.
In completely unrelated news, last night Jim let me know that the hapless Canadians that I accidentally traumatized have apparently learned of my dislike of the word ‘panties’ and kindly asked to meet the “punties girl.”
Punties, they go on your butt and are not sexualized.
Hooray for punties!