When a Big Mac is not a Big Mac

If you don't want to read three* paragraphs of me ranting about my shit big mac, I understand. Move along.

Fundamentally, I am a person who delights in small things. Tonight, after a Staples run, we decided to stop off for Big Macs to avoid cooking. Whilst I know that they all greasy and evil, I love them. I can't help it.

Unfortunately, the nearest golden arches was located in a neighbouring industrial estate. It's one of those really tiny franchises that's actually inside another building, in this case, a bowling alley. And unfortunately for us, it clearly wasn't a busy night. How did we know? Our big macs must've sat under those warmer lamps for quite some time, as gathered from the grey lettuce, rock hard buns and curdled big mac sauce. Gross.

*I apologise, I lied - it's only two paragraphs. If someone from Macdonalds should happen upon this, I am not pleased. I'm filing this under mcjob prospects because I don't have a when shit food happens to hungry people tag.