While making my rounds of 700+ miles per day in the big truck—semi for those who may think a “big truck” refers to a monster truck—I occasionally get hungry. Actually, I pretty much STAY hungry these days. That’s because I’ve decided I probably shouldn’t eat anything and everything in sight all night long as I drive. (Not if I do not want to look like the typical truck driver anyway). But a guy can only take so much hunger, and once in a while, I treat myself to a meal.
Truck stop food being what it is—overpriced bland sustenance that leaves you feeling half sick—I try to go to an actual restaurant when possible. Not a sit-down restaurant; there’s no time for that since I need to keep moving. (No miles equals no pay and I haven’t yet figured out how to live without money)! So, I visit the fast food places like McDonald’s. Some would suggest that McDonald’s food is no better than truck stop food but I beg to differ—I happen to LIKE McDonald’s!
But I also like a little variety and there’s a very good chicken place on my run—southern style fried chicken with all of the fixin’s! The food is delicious, the service is good—well, the people are friendly anyway. The service WOULD be good if I could ever get what I ordered. That, is sometimes a chore.
I prefer white meat and I always specify ALL white meat. The person taking my order acknowledges my request, it’s even printed on my receipt. But somewhere between taking my order and filling it, there is a disconnect. Out of the nearly ten years I’ve been stopping there, I think I’ve gotten only white meat about three times. Usually, I end up with a breast and a thigh. Sometimes, a breast and a leg. And once in a while, no white meat at all.
I’ve decided this has more to do with ignorance than incompetence—no one has bothered to teach the younger employees which pieces are white and which are dark. At least that WAS my theory.
I stopped in for some chicken the other day and was glad when the manager, an older and seemingly competent woman, took my order—and then worked on filling it herself. Maybe this time, they’ll get it right, I thought. But my hope was short-lived. I opened my box to find two thighs.
I’ve considered offering all their employees classes on white meat vs. dark meat. Or maybe making up a little chart for them, with pictures—for all the Facebook conditioned people who NEED a visual aid. But they probably aren’t interested in my input. And even if I managed to educate one or two of them, with a fairly high turnover rate, I’d never be able to keep up and still would probably not get what I ordered. So, I guess I’ll just stick to driving a truck. And stay hungry! ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.