My Chicken Dinner

For those people who might be new, or fairly new, to read this here websity bloggy blogger site of mine, there are a couple of things you should know about me... well, there are a dozen things I could tell you about me, but most are uninteresting... however, for the purposes of this little jag, know this--I don't like spicy foods.  I don't like fried chicken white meat, but I do love dark meat chicken.  And bad customer service annoys me.

On Monday, The Lovely Steph Leann left town for a couple of days to do work in the A-T-L, leaving me to my own devices, not only for entertainment but also for food.  And on Monday evening, I had a hankerin' for some fried chicken.

There are three main chicken establishments within a reasonable distance from The Cabana, that being Bojangles, KFC and Popeye's Chicken n'Biscuits.  Bojangles is a little far to drive, and the two times Ive been there, I haven't been wildly impressed.  There are two KFCs that I know of, one on Green Springs, which is on the edge of ghettoville, and the other near enough, but its attached to a BP station.   Of my few rules of things that you do and don't do, one of them is "Never eat at a fast food franchise when attached to a gas station."  

Sometimes, you can find some great food at a local gas station, because many times its cooked there, and kept hot and fresh.  They have names like "Mama Nell's Diner" stuck on a Chevron, or "Billy Jack's Pizzaria" sharing a hallway with a Shell.  But when its a McDonalds on a Marathon Station, or a Subway on a Amoco, or a KFC on a BP Station, the answer is no. 

The other chicken choice is Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits, though in some places its called Popeye's Louisiana Grill, which I've noted before is a bit presumptuous.  Anyway, its the closest, and normally its a good meal.  I go in, order, sit and eat my chicken, listen to whatever on my iPod, refill my Co-Cola and then leave. 

On this Monday, a few days ago, I went in.  I noticed that they had a $3.49 special that included three, count 'em three, pieces of dark meat--a wing, a drumstick and a thigh--on a plate, along with one of them delicious biscuits.  Drink was extra, but overall, I got the meal for about $5.50. 

I ordered that very meal, mouth watering with anticipation of deep friend chicken, grease dripping off and eating through the tray, steam rising from the crispy skin, and that biscuit, oh that perfectly round, semi-flaky biscuit that is never hot, but just warm enough to enhance the butter flavor, the imitation butter flavor, and when Sabrisha turned her back to me to put those pieces on my plate, I was just so happy, knowing the chicken would be in my hands in seconds, in my mouth and gut in minutes and...

"...you okay with a breast piece?  We outta thighs," she said, uninterested.
 
(cue record screeching sound, like the needle just slid off the vinyl LP)

"I'm sorry?"
"I said we outta thighs."

Now, to her credit, Sabrisha offered me a piece of fried chicken that most would consider equal or higher value, but the problem is, I don't like white meat on fried chicken.  I find the breast piece to be a little too dry for me, so I was sorely disappointed when the thighs were gone. 

"Can I get another drumstick instead?" I asked with a sigh.  Sabrisha didn't bat an over-sized eyelashed eye, she just tossed the piece on there and handed me the tray.  It was good.  Should have been a little more food, but I dealt.

So, Tuesday evening rolls around, and I'm thinking about going to the movies.  The Lovely Steph Leann won't be back until tomorrow night, so again, I'm seeking some entertainment.  Of course, I dilly dally around and by the time I get up to go to the theater, for a 5:10 show, its already 430.  I'm kinda hungry, so I'm thinking I'll just pick up something on the way really quickly, then get some popcorn at the picture show.

What's on the way?  You got it.  Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits.

The Lovely Steph Leann has this thing where, if she has a certain type of food or a certain restaurant one day, she's good for a few days.  She doesn't want to replicate for at least four or five days.  Me?  If I like it, I'll dig in several days in a row.

As I pull into the parking lot, my dear, beautiful, wonderful friend Melanie rings me on my celly, and I end up sitting in the parking lot talking for about fifteen minutes.  The time is now 4:50, and I'm not making a 5:10 movie, not when I haven't even eaten, and not through traffic.  Tis okay, I can save the money--at least I'll get the fried chicken, and hopefully they will have thighs!

Nicole is this blonde chick behind the counter, and let me tell ya, she loves her job.  I mean, she loves being there, and you can tell she is so jazzed that she's having to work now.  Sarcasm is free.

I again order the $3.49 combo, and can see across the counter into the chicken bin where there are piles and piles of chicken thighs. 

"Mild or spicy?" she asks me.  I tell her "mild" immediately.  She punches it up, tells me my total, I pay Nicole, and step to the left.  LaKwanzah puts my chicken in the basket, tosses it on a tray and hands it to me.  As I step away, I notice the piece of breast meat sitting in the basket.  I turn back and simply say, "LaKwanzah... I'm guessing you are out of... wings?"
"Yeah."
"Would you mind, can I get another thigh piece instead of a breast piece?"

Rule of thumb... when a restaurant, fast food or otherwise, has its food leave the counter and goes into the customers hands, if said food is forced to return back across that counter, then said food is disposed of.  This is actually going through my head as I watch LaKwanzah grab the tongs, pick up the breast piece and toss it back in the chicken pile.  She then tosses a thigh into the basket.

Smiling to myself at the ridiculousness of LaKwanzah's chicken toss and Nicole's apathetic ethic, I get my sweet tea and sit in the corner.  I chomp down a huge bite of my thigh piece she just gave me, and immediately, my mouth burns.  I just open my jaw and a half chewed chunk of dark meat falls out on the tray.  A few gulps of the sweet tea, and I take my tray back to the counter.

Nicole sees me, and her face says, "What now?"
"Excuse me," I smile, "I hate to be high maintenance, but the piece that you gave me--its all kinds of spicy.  Can I get a mild piece?"

LaKwanzah looks at me, confused.  "You wanted a mild piece?"
"Yes ma'am."
"What did you order?"

Uh, common sense would tell you that if I bring back a piece to you that was spicy, and am requesting a mild, then I probably ordered mild.  Just sayin'.

"I ordered mild."
"Well, cause all them pieces is spicy."
"Well," I say, having a harder time holding in my impatience now, "I ordered mild.  I can't do spicy."  I look over at Nicole, who just shrugs.

I got my chicken right, finally, and though it was good, and hot out of the oven, just something about the whole experience just hindered the taste of the meal. 

What happened to pleasant service?  The customer is always right?  Working in a retail food establishment, I can tell you, the customer is NOT always right, and in fact, many times the customer is a putz.  But, that doesn't mean that you, as the representative of the business you work in, the face of the company you are employed by, can just... well, not care. 

And yes, I just spent an hour typing (and you spent fifteen minutes reading) about my chicken dinner.   Why use 500 words when 2,000 will do?

And though I can't be sure, out of the three pieces I brought back to the counter, covered in spicy spice, one half-chewed, I think two of them went back into the chicken bin for later sale. 

Ah, Popeye's Chicken and Biscuits.

The DQ 20 Cent Dilemma

My usual stops on the dinner tour while living on Highway 280 are as follows:
Chipotle Grill... Zaxbys... Baha Burger... Chick-fila... Waffle House... Wendy's... Subway

If I'm going out to grab some quick food, 9 times out of 10, I've gone to one of the above places.  There's several fast food joints in a 5 minute drive from The Cabana, but I'm not going to McDonald's, Burger King is just too much grease, Arby's is good, though I never go, and Milo's is way too much food.  Good, but too much food.

There is a place called Hamburger Heaven on 280, but its wildly overpriced and overrated... went in there a few months ago, thinking, "I'll try it out, see what its like" and boy was I a little surprised that my combo cost like, $8. And the burger was just eh. Reminded me of The Varsity in Atlanta, but not nearly as cool looking.

I do like Dairy Queen every now and again, usually because its a cheap option... they have this 9 item deal where you can get 2 items for $3, or 3 items for $4 or 4 items for $5.  I usually go with a couple of hot dogs, a medium drink and a small sundae.  Caramel, hot fudge or, if you ask for it, butterscotch.

The other night, I go into Dairy Queen.  I actually had a hankerin' for some Waffle House (all star breakfast, hash browns covered, chunked and capped, eggs scrambled) but at the time, I only had about $6 in my pocket.  Normally, I would do the hot dog, sundae and drink option, but today, I wanted something a little different... and for only $4.99, you can get the double cheeseburger, fries and the brand new mini-Blizzard size.  I ordered it, and then realized that there was no drink, so I added the drink for an additional $1.49.  Brian, the guy behind the counter (it was on the receipt) rang me up and told me my total was like, $7.49.  I paid for it, then stepped down the counter to wait for my food.

When I buy something, especially if its "deal pricing", I always do the quick calculations in my head on what I just paid for.  And $7.49 seemed like a big jump from the $4.99 that I was hoping to pay... I did the math, realized that $4.99 plus the $1.49 drink is what, $6.48... and for $7.49, that means I just got a $1.01 tax rate, which means that I paid into the 17% tax rate.  I mean, I know He Who Must Not Be Re-Elected is president, but surely he's not working that fast?

I glanced at my receipt.  My drink?  $1.69.

Here's the quandary.  Do you say something?  I mean, its 20 cents. Am I going to fight for that 20 cents?  No.  But I've been overcharged.  Brian probably didn't do it on purpose, but I've been overcharged.  And if he does it to me, either he's an idiot or he doesn't know what he's doing, or maybe it was on accident.  So I stood there, going through this mental debate on "should I speak up?" or "do I let it go?" and "its 20 cents, man" and "but I was overcharged!".

I watch the goings on behind the counter, as Brian stands in front of the little rack where the kitchen behind it slides the food through.  There was a mom with a couple of soccer playing kids before me, and their food was coming out in mass quantities.  And of course, I saw my fries.  The fries come out, and for whatever reason, they can never come out at the same time as the cheeseburger. 

Now the other girl there, Aquanetta, or whatever her name is, has already given my Mini-Blizzard to me.  She got that thing to me faster than I could determine I'd been overcharged, and when they say "mini", they mean "mini".  It was a Strawberry Cheesequake, because I like strawberry and love love love cheesecake. 

Here I am, at the counter, with this fierce debate of morality and financial accountability raging in my brain, with a 6oz tiny cup of soft serve, berry cheesecake flavored ice cream dripping down the side of the cup, watching Brian stand idly by as not only my fries, but also a burger that looked suspiciously like mine has been slid into the little rack. 

Seriously, mine is there.  He can just toss it onto a tray and hand it to me.  I glance at the monitor above his head, where I see my order flashing.  The time on my order is now approaching 6 minutes, while the order behind me is getting close to 4.  The mom and her soccer team have already come up and gotten their food, and Brian is now assembling the order after mine.  My burger and fries sit in the rack. 

He picks up my burger, looks at it, PUTS IT BACK INTO THE RACK, picks up another burger, looks at it, asks something indecipherable to ReyRey in the kitchen, then places it on a tray with an order of chicken fingers.  Then he hands off this tray of greasy goodness to the next family, those who came after me, and then turns to the rack.  He picks up my fries, picks up my burger, looks at the receipt, then has this look on his face like he literally just realized "Oh, wait, this burger and fries goes to... oh yeah, this guy."

Finally, I speak up.  "So, I think you over charged me for the drink."  He looks up at me, tray in his hand.  "Really?" 

"Well, its only 20 cents, so its not a big deal, I don't want it back [though I would have taken it if offered, even if only for the principal of it], but you overcharged me.  You charged me $1.69 for the drink, when the sign says $1.49."

He looks at me, tray still in his hand, looks up at the menu, looks over at the sign advertising the Mini-Blizzard Meal Deal, looks back at the menu, then says, "Oh, must have been only for the small drink."  Then he hands my tray.  No apology, no "my bad", no "sorry about that, man" or anything. 

I follow it up with "Well, again, its only 20 cents, so I'm not worried about it.  But just thought you should know you overcharged me, in case you want to get that figured out."  I get my tray and walk towards the high table in the corner, where I like to sit when I come to Dairy Queen on 280.

The dinner was so-so.  Of course the picture of the burger looked 1,500% better than the actual burger, which was all smashed and such.  I had to peek into the bun to see that they did actually put cheese on it.  The fries were just okay, though DQ is not known for their fries.  The Mini-Blizzard was fabulous... for a strawberry blizzard.  But I had ordered a Strawberry Cheesequake blizzard.  Aquanetta had given me the soft-serve equivalent of a serving of pork-n-beans... where you get a ton of beans and one little piece of fat.

In my 6 ounce Mini-Blizzard, there literally were four little cubes of cheesecake cheesequake, and that's it.  I dug around in the cup with my spoon.  I didn't realize this until after I had eaten all four, completely expecting a few more quakes, instead barely receiving tremors. 

Sigh.

I'm sure I'll visit the DQ again sometime in the future, perhaps even tomorrow for lunch.  But I'll go back to the Sweet Deal menu, a few bucks for a hot dog and a drink and a sundae.  Caramel.  Or butterscotch, if you ask.

The marshmallow is good too.

And let's face it, that twenty cents would have come in handy... the next night at church, I had three one dollar bills and had to scrounge for change to make up the five dollars to pay for my supper.