McDonald's Menu Prices at 260 Ivey Lane ★3.4 (1360)

The way this was made and presented is completely unacceptable. Looks like the employee tried to make this McRib as messy as possible. Fries from McDonald's are only good for 10-15 minutes... When you take them out and shake them in a bag of seasoning that time is cut down to 5 minutes. We won't be back.

Waited 32 minutes exactly for the food. And it still wasn't right. Busy or not. Absolutely unacceptable. Also they were fully staffed an abundance of employees all around. Mcdonalds is pretty much terrible everywhere

Stopped to get a simple cup of coffee. Ordered on the kiosk, and waited. After a few minutes, a worker handed me my coffee, and walked away. I thanked her, and went out the door. I took a sip and the coffee was cold. Not iced coffee, but coffee that had been sitting around unheated. I tossed it out on the ground and left, as I certainly wouldn't trust them to brew me a hot cup. Goodness, food times are hard. Update: McDonald's sent a "please contact us" response a few days after my review. I tried, but didnt have the patience to complest all the prompts involved. I'm sure it was corporate AI. Nasty, cold coffee.

We were headed out of town and stopped to pick up breakfast sandwiches, but alas...my favorite time was over! We settled for a fish sandwich, Big Mac, fries, and drinks. The fries were warm, but the Big Mac wasn't. The meal served our purpose, and overall McDonalds is consistent with great fries!

To describe my recent expedition through this McDonald’s drive-thru as a “disappointment” would be to commit a crime against language itself. No, this was not a mere inconvenience—it was a full-blown descent into the abyss of customer service, a fever dream of incompetence wrapped in grease-soaked paper and apathy. I arrived with hope in my heart and hunger in my soul, expecting, at the very least, mediocrity delivered efficiently. Instead, I was greeted by the auditory equivalent of a malfunctioning robot gasping for its final breath through the drive-thru speaker. My simple order—one medium fry, a cheeseburger, and a sweet tea—was somehow translated into a chaotic symphony of confusion and delay. It took twenty-one minutes. Twenty-one minutes for what could only be described as the culinary manifestation of despair. When I reached the window, the employee looked at me with the haunting, thousand-yard stare of someone who had long since abandoned all dreams and aspirations. My food was thrust at me with the grace of a catapult, the bag already translucent with oil, as though the fries had personally fought a losing battle against time itself. The fries were limp, their once-golden glory reduced to pale shadows of their former selves. The cheeseburger was a crime scene—its cheese folded like a crumpled napkin, the bun askew as though it had been assembled mid-earthquake. The sweet tea, that supposed Southern nectar, tasted like the diluted tears of a disappointed angel. I sat in my car for a moment, staring into the void, the smell of overused fry oil permeating my soul. This wasn’t fast food—it was slow agony. The kind of experience that doesn’t just ruin your appetite; it ruins your faith in humanity’s ability to operate a deep fryer. To the management: what transpired that night was not a meal. It was an ordeal. A test of patience, spirit, and digestive endurance. I hope you one day look upon your drive-thru cameras, witness the chaos you’ve sown, and feel even a flicker of remorse. One star—because zero is not an option.