'May I take your order?' is usually difficult to answer

“Wel… to Mc… May I… your… der.”
No, I’m not writing gibberish, although many people probably think I often do. I’m transcribing what I usually hear coming from the speaker at a number of restaurant drive-thrus.
My father-in-law says it better than I can, though: “They put a man on the moon, and those astronauts could communicate to NASA better than I can with a person just 40 feet away and with 40 years of advances in technology.”
He and I both hate going through drive-thrus, and while we try to avoid them as often as possible, sometimes it’s more convenient, and more amusing, to use them.
Not understanding the person on the other end agitates me, and my agitation usually leads to an unpleasant exchange mostly on my behalf. An example conversation, with the garbled words interpreted to the best of my ability:
“Welcome to (insert name of not-so-good-for-the-diet restaurant here). Would you like to try our (insert menu item here the restaurant is shamelessly promoting to the annoyance of everyone using the drive-thru here)?” the drive-thru attendant asks.
“What? I didn’t understand anything you said. Can I give you my order now?” I’ll say.
“I said, ‘Would you like to try our (item is shamelessly promoted again)?’”
“No thank you. Can I order?”
“We’re ready whenever you are.”
“I’d like a (insert nonnutritional menu item here). And…”
“Would you like it as a meal?”
“If you would have let me finish, I would have told you to make it a meal.”
“Would you like it super-sized?”
“Good god, won’t a regular size lead me to an early grave as it is? No, I don’t want it super-sized.”
“So that’s a no?”
“Yes.”
“So you want it super-sized?”
“No. Regular size please. And…”
“What type of drink would you like with that?”
“Again, if you had let me finish I would have told you I’d like a Coke with it.”
“We don’t have Coke.”
“Then a Pepsi. I don’t care. They practically taste the same.”
“Do you want a diet one?”
“Did I say diet? Just a regular Pepsi.”
“Would you like your meal with regular fries or curly fries?”
“Regular.”
“Excuse me. Could you please repeat that?”
“REGULAR fries. Not curly.”
“One regular size (insert name of meal you ordered here), with a Pepsi and curly fries.”
“I said REGULAR fries, not curly fries.”
“Your order already includes curly fries. Look at your order on the screen. Your total is $6.53. Is your order correct?”
“It’s not correct and I’m not done. I want regular fries. Plus, I have two other people in the car I need to order for. Do you want their business?”
“Your order is $6.53. Please pull forward.”
It’s at that point I pull forward, right out of the drive-thru. Someone else can eat my incorrect food order.
The funniest thing about that conversation is that it’s not exaggerated. My wife can’t stand going through a drive-thru with me, because she knows the conversation is often like this one. In fact, it’s sometimes worse, as my 5-year-old son will often chirp in from the backseat, letting the drive-thru attendant know he’s a kid and he wants a toy with his meal. I try to pipe him down, but that can be difficult when he’s trying to make sure he gets what he wants.
Even funnier is when we go through a coffee drive-thru and I’m trying to relay my wife’s order to the attendant. Since most people are already aware coffee is not simply coffee at these places, I’ll spare the details how I order a fat-free, sugar-free grande white chocolate caramel latte without any cream.
Drive-thru ordering can be fun when I’m in a humorous mood. I once ordered a large breast milk – no offense to breast-feeding mothers – when I was younger and trying to entertain some friends in my car.
My father-in-law has me beat, though. He once covered his mouth and talked like the speaker sounds to him, completely confusing the attendant. I would have loved to hear that one.