Last night we went with my parents to watch my sister play volleyball. After the game we stopped at McDonald's for a tasty and nutritious meal. I ordered some chicken strips (which are all the rage because they contain actual meat). I asked for one of each of their new dipping sauces and and two packages of sweet and sour and was told that they can only give me two sauce packs with my 5-piece chicken strip meal. I managed to get 3 sauces, since Emma's happy meal was allotted one pack. Feeling only somewhat defeated, I was gathering up my dipping sauces to head over to our table when the cashier stopped me. My dad had paid with a credit card and they didn't ask him to sign a receipt before he left the counter. She said, and this is a direct quote, "Someone needs to sign this; it doesn't matter who does it." She handed me a pencil (yes, a pencil) and let me sign the receipt. I was so upset about my limited selection of sauces that I didn't recognize the extreme irony of all this until Sara pointed it out to me.