Hamburgers or Humans: What's more important?

Fast food workers are under a lot of stress to get food out fast and hot.  I used to work at A&W so I know what it's like.  Sometimes you have the boss over you hot and heavy to get the job done.  Sometimes my boss was downright rude to me.  There was definitely stress and I hated it.

Stress can make people act in bad ways.  Recently I went into a McDonalds and the manager was screaming at the workers.  After my family and I ordered and finished eating, I approached the counter and the manager was still at it. 

I said, "May I speak with your manager."

"About what?" the clerk said.

"I just want to make a comment."

"Okay," the clerk said, nervously.

She went to the back where the manager was berating a zit faced teen.  The teen was making fries, and he was stiff as a board.  Sweat was beeding down his face.  She stopped screaming when the clerk approached her.  "Get back to the counter!" she wailed.

"A man wants to speak with you," the clerk said, and rushed back to the counter where I stood opposite the cash register.  "Do you need something?"

"Yes, I want three vanilla ice cream cones for my three kids, and I want to talk to your manager," I said.

As the clerk was making the cones the manager came to the register.  "Can I help you?" she said, rather rudely.

"Yes, you can help me.  I think you're being rather rude to your workers.  I can hear you yelling at them all the way at my table.  I understand this job is stressful, but I work with sick people in a hospital and I never act like that.  Just think, sick people," I held up my left hand, "and hamburgers," I held up my right.  "Hmmm, which do you think is more important.  Nobody dies because you forgot to put ketchup on a hot dog."

I paused a moment for effect, and added, "You knew when you took this job you were going to be working with kids.  For God's sake, please have a little patience, respect and empathy."

The manager stood there agape, face red as a fresh apple.  As I looked beyond her I saw all work behind the counter had ceased, and all the workers, all teenagers, were staring at me, and smiling.  "That's all I have to say," I said.  The clerk handed me a container with three cones.  "Thank you," I said, grabbing the cones.

Later that night I emailed McDonalds.