After a long day out of town (our town is very small so most of our shopping has to be done hours away), it’s nice to come home with a meal someone else cooked and in containers you won’t have to wash – and that was the exact reason we had for stopping at a famous fried chicken place.
I suppose we should have taken the noise and things we saw and heard as some kind of warning signal, but since the chain’s food quality always tended to be the best, we figured we would overlook the rest: the cashier boy pulling off his sneakers to show them off, the same boy yelling to friends/coworkers and using offensive language, and the wad of people, probably one of the employee’s families, sitting at a table by the door – and not just at the table, but also on the floor. Their stuff was everywhere, and they were loud, too. Two kids were running wild. Despite the mildly unsanitary and majorly unprofessional way things were handled, we were hungry and tired so we decided to hope the chain’s reputation would at the very least speak for the food.
Unfortunately, it did not. The chicken looked alright, but it was warm (not hot) and chewy, as though it had been heated for a week by a light bulb.
Being fair and patient people, we tried the restaurant just once more – and while it was still very loud, with nearly everyone yelling conversationally, and the chicken still had the appeal of a dirty sock – at least the lazy-looking bunch wasn’t still crowding two tables at the door. We’ve never been back to that place, nor will we ever be; next time we’re hungry on the way home, a convenience store’s chocolate bar selection will suffice.