Would It Be That Hard to Fix? 

First Installment 

    Driving home from the wedding of our great nephew, Luke, and new great niece, Alivia, we had our radars tuned for handy Dairy Queens. We found one in Goldendale, Washington, and as we’d been driving all day we thought we deserved some health food. So, pulling in we drove up to the menu board and requisite communication system. 
   I ordered our usual, two medium cones, only this time we got really wild and made them swirl cones. [As my imaginary third cousin from Louisiana, Mary Lou Block, would say upon hearing my allusion to health food and while rolling her eyes, “Lord, help me over the fence!”] 
    I had to repeat my order three times because their communication system was the same as all other fast food ordering systems.  
    Let me insert a little rant here. We, that is the human race, can communicate with people in space, on the moon, or miles under the surface of the ocean, and make ourselves understood. It doesn’t seem to be a problem. I continually talk to people from India. I can hear them distinctly. I can’t understand their accent, nor do I want to give them control of my computer so they can fix some dire problem, but we do communicate. 
    Now at these fast food places, I cannot see the person I’m talking with, but I’m in close proximity. A stretched string and two tin cans would work pretty well. But no, they are using what sounds like pre-World War I equipment that has been through several bombings. 
    I repeated myself several times as did the order taker, and we both strained to understand what the other was trying to say. Most of the time, through the squeaks, squawks, hisses and clicks, it works, to a point. Not easily, but I guess they think the effort will make us hungrier. 
    Today, like I mentioned, I ordered two cones. I finally understood that I would have to pay, what sounded like $2.68 at the window. I was amazed, for this is a really good price for two medium cones at a Dairy Queen. 
    When I got to the window I handed the girl three dollars, and she handed me one cone and change. Then she started to close the window. She realized that I was watching her expectantly so she hesitantly opened the window and took a step back from her narrow counter but listened as I explained that I had ordered two cones. 
    She apologized, and went and got another cone. I got another three dollars ready to exchange for said cone. She came back, handed me my cone, but refused to take the three dollars, and apologized again for the mistake. 
    What went through my head as we drove away was, how many $2.68 mistakes do they make and how long would it take to pay off the investment to put in some half-way modern communication equipment. Just a thought. The cones were delicious and as it turned out the price was exceptional.