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Adventures in Retail Hell: KFC

Published March 7, 2010 - 2 Comments

I had the misfortune of having to go to the mall the other day.  I tend to avoid that place, even at the best of times.  Over the years I’ve seen many of my favourite stores close, and be replaced by clothing outlets targeting a certain demographic that I simply do not belong to.

But this particular night I was on a mission, and apparently that meant having to go to the mall. 

While I was there, I decided that I needed to get something to eat.  I’d been at work all day, and really hadn’t had much throughout the day.  I looked at the options available to me in the food court.  There weren’t many.  I opted for the shortest line.  Three teenage punks crowded around the counter, yapping with their 2 friends on the other side of that counter.  As I suspected, they weren’t actually ordering anything, and stepped aside as I approached.

“We don’t have a cashier right now, but if you tell me what you want, I’ll start your order” one of the young guys said to me.  Umm… ok.. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I told him what I wanted… chubby chicken burger combo…

Then I stood there with my bank card in my hand, while the young punks started gabbing again.  It didn’t take too long for my food to finish.  I watched one of them package it up and set it on the tray…  But he couldn’t give it to me, because I hadn’t paid for it yet. 

Then other people started to line up behind me.  The couple of guys behind the counter panicked.

“Our cashier isn’t here.  She went for a smoke…”


That was enough for everyone else behind me.  They left.  I stood there and looked at my food… so close, yet so far…  the two guys behind the counter actually left and went back out of view, probably because they couldn’t stand there looking at me, looking at my food. 

That was it.  I’d had enough.  I should have jumped over the counter, grabbed my food, and sat down.  That would have showed them!  Of course, I probably would have just thrown out my back or something trying to get over that counter.  (Yeah, I know that there’s a little swinging door)

So I left.  I’m a pretty patient guy, but there are limits to my patience, and watching my food get cold while some girl is out having a cigarette, and no one else is able to run the cash register…  that’s too much, even for me.

I contemplated calling the next day and asking to speak to someone older than 16, but I couldn’t be bothered at this point.