JG
Joseph Gonzalez
Nov 3, 2025
At 4601 W. In West Jordan, a spot near the planes,
Lies a McDonald's, causing disdain.
With ketchup-stained smirks,
And hygiene that lurks,
It tests patience and stalls any gains.
Workers handle your food without care,
Their germ-infested hands everywhere.
Restrooms unclean and vile,
Make you grimace and sigh,
Wonder how folks still dare to eat there.
Managers ghost you, avoiding all calls,
Their phones lead you down endless walls.
Frustrations grow,
As their policies show,
Customer service doesn't echo in halls.
Filet-O-Fish, once moist, is now dry.
Steamed buns? Here, toast bids them goodbye.
Each bite disappoints,
Breaking bread in disjoint,
Making fans of fresh warmth question why.
Staff laze about, apathetic to plight,
Get your order wrong, a frequent blight.
Is it fast food or roulette?
Dare you chancing to bet,
On meals served with such minimal might.
On 9000 South, find a team that excels,
Politeness and order, ringing clear as bells.
Clean counters await,
For guests never late,
Offering food that truly compels.
Remember, reputation low, there's a cause,
A cautionary tale in this pause.
Though quick fixes they sell,
Dirty secrets, they tell,
Risk this location, at peril and loss.