Most people that work retail and are under the age of 35, and don't have a "real" family go out to lunch on a regular basis. When I am not hungry I am content to sit outside and smoke profusely, drink one and a half monsters and play games on a phone for 30 minutes. I often find that 30 minutes is a real short time to truly enjoy a lunch. 30 minutes almost make me feel like a pelican hoofing down an entire fish in one swoop of the gullet. Plus break rooms at jobs always have people that you are work friends with.....and they mainly bitch about shit that is going on that day. So this glorious day, one of my friends and I went to Chick-fil-A. We park out front and meander toward the doors of the establishment. Now before I go into detail about this visit for those that don't know me. I have never taken drugs and have no plans to do so. A drug test for me would consist of caffeine, nicotine....and possibly some left over beer that was just sloshing around in my blood. All three of these things I find to be great for my heart chakra.
So we get to the front and there is police line tape on the doors. Both sides had VIP written on the tape it's self. Pulling the doors open I see some sort of red felt strewn across the floor. (I'm guessing to represent a red carpet?) The people per usual behind the counter are scurrying about making people dreams of chicken sandwiches and nuggets come true. Definitely getting underpaid to work so hard. As I approach the counter I am imminently greeted and asked "what can I get for you?” I greeted him back, and informed the young man that I need a second to look over the menu, because that's what I intend to do. As I am glancing over the menu I start to notice that the people are warring crazy shit. Like Mardi Gras beads and Elton John style glasses. Taking all of this in my ear picks up that crazy rendition of "Putin' on the Ritz" by Taco from the early 80's . So that did not help the entire situation. (Now this is when shit gets a bit fuzzy). I was ready to order so I walk up to the counter and start ordering food. I am so frazzled my senses being completely bombarded with crazy, that when she asks me if I want sauce I look at my friend Chris for help, and I say "Sauce?" As if he is the one friend that is sober at the time that becomes the authority on everything. He says sternly "Buffalo" I swiftly jerk my head back to the girl and repeat "Buffalo". I pay and say thank you. To which she responds "my pleasure " I don't know about you guys but a girl warring some sort of crown made of blue construction paper, beads and bright green Elton John style glasses saying "my pleasure" is a bit odd. She then informs me that she will let me know when the food is ready. I step back from the counter. By this time the song had changed to Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror". For anyone that has ever seen the video they know that there is some crazy visuals that happen like starving people, it's real bummer stuff, but it fits the song so ....whatever. I shit you not the skinniest lady I have ever seen walks up to the counter from behind me. Skinny to the point that I feel odd even seeing her. I walk over to Chris and say to him "I can't handle this right now" halfway through my work day and I am freaking out.
We decide on a table and he suggests one that can’t see the counter. I agree and we take our seats. We get the food and start eating like people that only have 30 minutes for lunch and stupidly decided to go out to eat. Needless to say conversation was short. Mainly about how ridiculous this place was. Before we leave we both go to the counter one last time to get a refill of soda for the road. Once again say thank you with the same "my pleasure" response. We tuck tail and get out as fast as we can. On the way out a man three kids and woman are on the way in so I politely hold the door. To which they said jack shit no thank you no nothing. So that kind of snapped me out of the dream land state and got me right back into the mood of trying to explain to people that a fucking Ipad is not a computer!
Seriously,
Kevin
