I eat at Chick-fil-A more than once per week. I’ve also become quite the expert in ordering my meal at Chick-fil-A. Did you know that you can custom order your chicken sandwich? There’s like this whole secret way of ordering. I’m not even kidding. Subscribe to my podcast for details.
But, even though I eat at CFA on the regular, their employees are psychopaths and I think it’s time we talk about it.
I’m a southerner, and in many ways my tastes and interests coincide with my origins. For example, I enjoy a slower pace, I say “yes ma’am,” I still believe in only two genders, I love soul food and country cookin, (for those who don’t know, “soul food” is when black folks cook it and it’s the best in the entire world), I love the Alabama Crimson Tide, I love crappie fishing, my dream truck is a Ford Ranger, and I know all the words to every Alan Jackson song. But, when it comes to shopping and customer service, I’m a Yankee. My wife will attest to this. Let me explain.
When I’m in line at the store, I want to pay for my goods and leave. I don’t want to get to know the person behind the counter. I don’t want to hear the person in line in front of me get to know the person behind the counter. I’m not there to make friends. I don’t care about where you’re from or your family. Stop talking, don’t ask me how I’m doing, don’t ask to see pictures of my baby, just take my damn money. (There are exceptions to this, of course, like if I’m shopping at a place where I’m friends with the business owner or the person behind the counter. In other words, I’m a hypocrite who believes the world revolves around me. At least I admit it, okay?)
Here’s where Chick-fil-A comes in, and why we need to build awareness about this toxicity. Stop smiling at me from behind the counter, you freaking psychopath. And cut it out with the “my pleasures.” Ask me what I want, take my money and deliver my order. Nothing is more toxic for our children than fake-nice Christian girls named Makenzy who are smiling at you like some braindead angel zombie saying, “my pleasure.”
In the restaurant business and in retail, “the customer is always right,” but CFA has overcompensated for this incorrect logic (because NOBODY is always right) with these overly nice psychos and I’m tired of it. I’m so tired of it, I might write another article about it (after I buy more Chick-fil-A).
It’s not just the fake nice Christian girls behind the counter who are toxic for our children. They’re just part of the problem. It’s the little old ladies who just needed a part time job to get out of the house. These crazy bitches, as you’ll notice, just walk around and ask for refills (every five minutes). Just when the little psycho angel behind the counter has already ruined your day with her smile and her polite customer service, you’re met with an evil surprise five minutes after you sit down. A short 88-year-old lady walks over, smiling from ear to ear, and asks you if you’d like a refill. You reply with a nice, “No thanks.” Five minutes later, she returns and asks again, with an even bigger smile. You look down at your almost full drink (hoping she’ll notice you looking at your almost full drink) and you reply with, “No, I think I’m good. But, thanks so much.” Five minutes later she returns and asks again. At which point you look back down at your almost full drink and you reply (with a smile, of course) with an emphatic, “NO, I THINK I’M GOOD. I DON’T THINK I’LL NEED A REFILL TODAY.”
Just when you think you’ve rid yourself of that happy geriatric pain in the ass, she comes back to ask you if you’d like her to throw your tray away.
Nothing is more offensive in this world than being accosted by a geriatric sweet lady at an eatery that isn’t supposed to have a wait staff. For the love of God, I’m at a fast food eatery. I’m not at a fancy establishment like Chili’s. If I wanted to have incredibly good customer service AFTER I SIT DOWN, I’ll go to a place with a wait staff. So, please stop caring about my needs and give me my damn food. All I want is to eat my specially ordered extra crispy fried chicken sandwich with a quiet dignified resentment.
I think the moral of this story is to make sure we’re balancing out Chick-fil-A with the Waffle House. We must teach our children that Misty over at the Waffle House actually cares about our family because she has rich life experience (both inside bars and outside bars) while Makensy thinks she’s in love with some dork named Skyler just because he followed her on Instagram during the Golden Hour. As long as our kids understand that Chick-fil-A isn’t the real world, I think our future looks bright. But the second they think that the real world is filled with happiness and understanding, we’re screwed.
“Off the field issues with Josh” is a “weekly” column where Josh Brown shares his personal opinions and complex worldview with the readers at Knockahoma Nation. If you read more than one “Off the field issues with Josh” without wanting to tell him to shut up, then you probably need to seek professional help. Josh’s views do not necessarily reflect the views of Knockahoma Nation, so please direct your hate to Josh’s Facebook page HERE.