Qype: McDonald’s Restaurant in Bristol
It’s hard to really know what the best part of a McDonald’s visit is – we got back from the Bedminster branch about an hour ago, and I can say with honesty that I certainly don’t feel like eating anything else for quite some time.
It’s been so long since I’ve been to one – I’d forgotten the level of artistry that the place embodies. The photographs of the food on the menus match the presented product only under the most exact lighting conditions and camera angles, and one can only wonder what the minimum concentration of actual potato particles are legally required in order to sell fries.
The beauty of a trip to McDonald’s is no only with the food-based entertainment though – it’s their unique take on what constitutes customer service. Having been delivered a Chicken Legend with bacon & salsa with no bacon in it I returned it to the counter and informed them of the mistake. The youth in charge snatched the sandwich away from the server and opened it up in front of me, flipping through the layers with his fingers like a rolodex, and then having established that I wasn’t causing trouble, sent the sandwich out the back and ensured me that I’d get one with bacon. It wasn’t abundantly clear to me whether I’d been issued with a new sandwich, or had bacon inserted in the one the chap had fingered his way through. Optimistically, I convinced myself it was the former as the limp squares of iceberg looked as if they were arranged differently to the one I’d previously inspected. The customer is always wrong, I imagine. To their credit, the server did apologise to me, and assured me that the crew there had been working very hard all day – serving not only the neverending queue of people at the till, but also the ceaseless stream of people demanding to have food delivered through their car windows outside. No wonder the manager was so grumpy, poor thing. It was probably getting on toward time for his nap.
I also enjoyed the spectacle of two barely-literate people trying to communicate in different thick regional accents (and failing), and resorting to a series of grunting and pointing at the pictures above the counter – so not just a promotional concern, but also a vital tool for understanding.
One couldn’t complain about the view from the front window – it’s a great place to watch the world go by. I couldn’t quite get a handle on what music was playing to the dine-in customers, as a near constant array of beeps and sirens emanated from the kitchen: at one point leading us to wonder whether the restaurant was being attacked buy spacecraft and had had its defensive forceshields knocked out.