I needed something to eat for dinner, so I thought I’d try the Wrapstar from KFC. Basically, it’s like every chicken wrap on the market, but in star form. I go into KFC, and it’s not particularly busy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to wait 25 minutes for my food. As I said, it’s a chicken wrap, so it’s basically comprised of two parts: one part chicken and one part wrap. First: you take the chicken. Then: you wrap the chicken.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had to wait an ungodly amount of time for a minor menu item at my local KFC. I can understand when there’s a rush and some fucker wants 100pcs of chicken and a small seasoned curllies, but there’s five people in the kitchen. I can see them through the window, wiping their noses on their hands then touching the food, which is especially encouraging given the fact there’s a DEADLY FLU OUTBREAK. I think we take for granted the fact that the disgusting samples of human filth around us can make us sick for weeks at the merest cough, but now they can FUCKING KILL US.
Today some woman came up to me asking for shelf brackets at the store. Except she didn’t simply as. She coughed heartily, then asked. You know when you can actually smell the reek of their Halls in the air? That’s when you KNOW you’re breathing in their germs. Anyway, I left he with VERY SPECIFIC instructions on finding the shelf brackets. Then she came back to me two minutes later, and I asked her what she needed.
She said, “SHELF BRACKETS,” as if I was retarded, but more as if she was retarded. Far be it from me to assume that she may have found the very easy to find item on her own. I again explained to her, this time drawing pictures in the air with my hands, as I might communicate with a Neanderthal. The difference is: I might want to actually fuck a Neanderthal.
She of course came back a third time, and again stated, “SHELF BRACKETS,” like it was an accusation.
I’m not a big believer in human rights, because instances like this make me realize human shouldn’t have rights.
I had to physically direct her to the shelf brackets, and along the way I had to listen to her bullshit accusations implying I didn’t know what I was talking about: as if I didn’t work in the same department for forty hours a week for two years. And, of course, being in that kind of proximity meant I had to breath in her disease: so I’ll be dead of swine flu soon.
My point about work and KFC is this: the fuckers at KFC make the EXACT same wage per hour for being incompetent as I do for being competent, and they make it as THEIR STARTING WAGE. I HAD TO WORK MY WAY UP TO REACH THEIR PAY LEVEL. At no point should I be able to jump behind the counter and do another person’s job faster, and more efficiently than they, and make less or equal to than that person. I believe this to be the root cause of war.
In a way, I blame myself for not applying myself better. Moreover, I blame myself for going back to the same restaurant and expecting a different experience. I use to think poorly of my father for refusing to eat at the same place twice if the food or service was bad, but now I see the logic. There’s just too many choices out there. I’ll give a place a few months to improve before I go back, which is ample time to shape up, but not for some people. Ever have a bad experience at an eatery, then wait long enough to forget about it? Only: when you go back, the same dumb teller is behind the cash register? Then you go: “Oh fuck.”
For me, I placed my order, gave my money, then wondered after twenty minutes about walking out. I’d be doing myself a favour, only I’d be out of my money, and I’d still have no food. I could ask for a refund, but with the retards on till, my food would be ready by the time they figured out how, or else they’d charge me twice by mistake.
*SIGH*
No comments:
Post a Comment