8:09 p.m. - August 04, 2007
So I'm Sitting There, Waiting...
So I�m sitting there, waiting�
That was the refrain today as we decided to pollute our system with fast, greasy, yet yummy chicken that�s the stock in trade of some military chap from the state one below us.
I had spent most of the afternoon at a birthday party for Katie�s friend Justice at her grandmother�s house. The house has a pool, which is perfect for a kids� party but not so perfect if you are refereeing a kids� party. But I did my job, and all was well, except Katie got bitten by a mosquito during a water balloon game, which caused her to miss the water balloon and thus end her chance at a prize.
She still got way too much candy, though.
Liz did a lot of little things around the house today in preparation for the house going on the market (which is in one week, I believe, if all goes well) and that was another reason for me getting out and going to the party with Katie.
So we were both tired and not in a mood too cook, thus the trip to K-Y Fry.
So I�m sitting there, waiting�
As I drive into the parking lot, I see a couple go to their car. She�s wearing a tank top with a witty saying on it, and he�s, well, he�s a non-descript dude with a baby moustache and some knockoff Oakley sunglasses. He�s also wearing cutoffs and a tank top. It�s all clinched by her hawking a loogy before she opens the car door. How demure! How chic!
They�ve just repaved the lot, so it�s nice and smooth. That�s nice.
There�s a van in front of me, but hopefully it won�t take too long. Sometimes, this franchise is a bit pokey, especially if you don�t time it right and they run out of the extra crispy chicken and you have to wait on another batch to get ready.
So I�m sitting there, waiting�
Off to the side, I see an employee leaning against a fence, cigarette in hand, headset around her neck. She has to be one of the drive-up people taking a break. She�s leaning back, and this dude is talking to her. It seems that he�s invading her personal space, or close to it. He�s talking, gesturing, and did I see a finger point.
She�s leaning back, talking, looking over at me and trying to smile.
So I�m sitting there, waiting�
The van in front of me moves, lurches forward, but then backs up. What is the deal? I have the iPod on (first it was Del Shannon, and now it�s the Kaiser Chiefs, so this has been a two-song wait at the drive-up already) so I can�t hear the conversation either at the drive-up or of the couple in the parking lot.
The woman leaning against the fence looks like she wants to get going, but the dude is still talking and talking�
So I�m sitting there, waiting�
Finally, the van moves forward and I pull up. I turn the music down and roll down the window. I know EXACTLY what I want to order. It�s the same thing every time. We have found our meal at KFC and that�s what works.
The Kaiser Chiefs are almost done and still nothing, finally�
�Take a look at the menu and I�ll be with you shortly.�
WHAT???
GRRRRRR!!!
It seems they�re a bit understaffed, and it is about 6:40 on a Saturday night, which seems to be prime dinner hours. Yet one of theirs is still outside, still leaning against a fence talking to her boyfriend, or better, listening TO her boyfriend.
She�s not a young woman � mid 30�s, Hispanic. He�s older, I think � or has lived harder � some pasty dude in a crew cut, cut offs, and yes, a tank top. Anyway, it�s not some teenage thing.
Finally�I get the go-ahead to order, and I do so.
I pull forward, and Sagittarius clicks on the iPod. The van pulls out and I pull forward. The window is open but no one is there. In fact, I only see one employee and she�s helping some woman at the counter with some coupons. I didn�t realize that to use a coupon there you needed a translator, or something.
SO I�M SITTING THERE, WAITING�.
Another employee emerges � it�s some tattooed young buck that ambles toward the condiments and rearranges them and then ambles back.
Finally�Juanita rushes to the window, and tells me the total.
Juanita � that�s her name. She�s the one who was having the discussion there on break. Thanks for interrupting your personal life to serve me.
I give her my debit card and she goes to swipe it, then goes to do something at the register, and then�and then�
SO I AM SITTING THERE�.WAITING�.
Finally, she gives me the card, the receipts, and then the food, which is in a large bag carrying a bucket o�chicken, a box o�rolls and our bowls o�sides. She does this almost all at once, which makes it awkward. My mood is the antithesis of the song on my iPod, which is a nice gentle sunshine pop production. If I had a mood detecting iPod, it probably would have started some of the Sepultura I just downloaded instead.
I speed off toward home, irate at the wait. The Monkees come on the iPod and that doesn�t even cheer me up.
Argh.
And to think, for some chicken, I had to move my purple bracelet to my right wrist. Yeesh.
