Dear Patel McDonald’s:

 

I came to your location at 4717 Jackson Street in Alexandria, Louisiana this morning. I’ve come here 3-4 times a week since moving back last year.

 

Before moving away, I’d come to this location multiple times a week, its dedication to the community unparalleled in my beloved hometown.

 

From on-the-go dinners between ball games in the 90’s with my children to chaperoning Christian youth breakfast clubs in the early 2000’s, this location has been a hub for Cenla for decades. Now a journalist and TikTok faith and community promoter, I often plop down in the middle of informal senior gatherings and shoot the breeze while eating breakfast.

 

Today was no exception.

 

Besides the lament of a retired Miss Sam, the dedicated employee who lovingly helped our children for decades in the play area, I had no complaints but one.

 

That crazy coke machine!

 

You often have to hold down the lever until the water, carbonation, or syrup are all coming out equally before you put your cup under the nozzle to get the drink the BRIC should automatically put out.

 

It was actually a customer who taught me this trick four months ago. Since then, I’ve had to employ varying degrees of pressure to get a soda that comes out correctly. Some days are better than others but it remains a consistent problem.

 

In a great mood and after enjoying a wonderful breakfast of which I skipped several steps in my morning routine to be able to order (I miss all-day breakfast!) I decided to see if I could use my voice to help my beloved Mickey D’s get an updated machine. I travel the country; I’ve been in many fast food restaurants with considerably less revenue who have more updated equipment.

 

Our community deserves the best!

 

Instead my voice was met with indignation by the GM, who told me there wasn’t anything wrong with the machine.

 

It had been easier to get my drink this morning; this is true. It does work better some days than others. Realizing I’d likely come across too brash, I’d dropped it, realizing that a collaboration would not happen.

 

You wouldn’t want me as a pilot; my take-off is often rocky. But I generally level out if you withstand the turbulence, and you see that I’m trying to get is to the same destination with great care. He didn’t know me; I didn’t fault him for assuming the worst. Journalism often brings out defensiveness and self- protection.

 

I had my hand on the door to leave quietly when he went across the restaurant to hold down one of the soda’s levers and loudly proclaim that it was working just fine. Fortunately I’m a theatre girl so having all eyes on me didn’t bother me in the least.

 

However, it was unprofessionalism at its finest. He didn’t know me; he couldn’t have known my deep love for my hometown and all of the places I’m revisiting on my journey. This isn’t about journalism; it’s about helping to make a difference in all the places I love.

 

I promote mental positivity and little things like a soda machine may seem inconsequential to most, but I notice everything. We all should.

 

I won’t stop coming to this location; the food and employees are great. I like to play in the Play Area as much as my grandchildren do. This location is part of my past, my present, and my future.

 

But this store, along with other businesses supported by the citizens of Cenla, are not merely places of convenience. They are part of our history, our heritage, and our community ties. They hold memories; they are like family.

 

Families need to take care of each other.