One Last Chicken Story
The CFO and I decide to purchase our picnic dinner (as in breakfast, lunch, dinner) last Saturday to take with us to the Blue Ridge Music Center. So, we stopped by KFC/Taco Bell in Sparta about 5:30 pm to pick up a 6-piece chicken "dinner" (chicken, one large "side" and four biscuits) for us to share. We go inside to order and that's when the fun began.
You see, at 5:30 pm on a Saturday night in a Kentucky Fried Chicken store, the computer said they were out of chicken! Oh, there was a pile of pieces laying on the serving table but the computer said they were sold. So the CFO sez we ain't waiting 16 minutes for the next batch to come out of the cooker. The lady serving the inside line of customers looks at all that chicken and assures us there's enough for us. So we place our order and pay the premium for "all white".
That's about when the food fight broke out between her and the lady serving the drive-through customers. Chicken is fly off the serving table in a clash of serving tongs. Pandemonium ensues. They are screaming at each other. Some poor man comes in and attempts to order a taco. Nobody's asking anybody whether they want Extra Crispy or The Original Recipe. At his stage, you understand, chicken is chicken.
A sack is proffered. We take it and go. The contents smells sooo good as we drive up the parkway. At the music center, a Laborador Retriever abandons its owners and follows us. Finally, with great anticipation, we open the sack and what do we have? Four legs, a thigh and a breast! No biscuits.
Yes, indeed, chicken is chicken.
You see, at 5:30 pm on a Saturday night in a Kentucky Fried Chicken store, the computer said they were out of chicken! Oh, there was a pile of pieces laying on the serving table but the computer said they were sold. So the CFO sez we ain't waiting 16 minutes for the next batch to come out of the cooker. The lady serving the inside line of customers looks at all that chicken and assures us there's enough for us. So we place our order and pay the premium for "all white".
That's about when the food fight broke out between her and the lady serving the drive-through customers. Chicken is fly off the serving table in a clash of serving tongs. Pandemonium ensues. They are screaming at each other. Some poor man comes in and attempts to order a taco. Nobody's asking anybody whether they want Extra Crispy or The Original Recipe. At his stage, you understand, chicken is chicken.
A sack is proffered. We take it and go. The contents smells sooo good as we drive up the parkway. At the music center, a Laborador Retriever abandons its owners and follows us. Finally, with great anticipation, we open the sack and what do we have? Four legs, a thigh and a breast! No biscuits.
Yes, indeed, chicken is chicken.
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