Perhaps I’m being a little arrogant, but I am stunned to have been rejected for a job at KFC. It’s not that i think the job is easy, or that it’s just “flipping burgers”, it’s just, that I’ve worked there before. Not at this particular franchise, but I could still do the job in my sleep. In fact, sometimes I do. Even after 14 years, I still often dream about working at K-Fried.
It was my first job out of school, but I swear to the Colonel, I know my chicken combinations like a motherfucker. Every time I go through the drive thru it bothers me when they give me inaccurate combinations. I mean, come on guys, how hard is it to remember: wing and thigh, rib and drum? If I get another two piece pack with a wing and drum together one more fucking time, Imma get out of my car, climb through that window and shove that quarter pack……. uh, anyway, you get the idea.
The point is, if you stick to your correct combos, you don’t get a surplus of wings.
I guess some folks appreciate wings more than I do. (Click image for source article at stuff.co.nz)
Wait, no, that’s not the point. I’m getting side-tracked. The point is, I should be running the place! I’ll sort out your combo issues and your watery gravy in no time. No staff member of mine will be putting cold coleslaw in the same bag as hot chicken. And no one, NO ONE, needs 25 spoons with their 10 piece family meal.
I’d have that place running so smooth, Don Juan would be envious. Fuck it, I’ll start my own chicken chain. I’ll call it, Pollo del Amor and Don Juan will be our patron saint. Every meal will be served on a bear skin rug in front of an open fire, and our chicken combinations will be accurate every goddamn time. Suck on that KFC.
But just in case things don’t pan out, I’ll send in another application next week, if you could take a look at it, that would be super.
Unplanned Detour 