Kentucky Fried Customer Service

I’m not a big fast food fan (though my body weight may indicate otherwise) but every once in a while I will grace such an establishment with my dollars. A few nights ago, I couldn’t be happier that I did. I drove into KFC, ordered a Snacker and added on some of their delicious dessert parfaits to share with the friends I was meeting up with.

I was greeted at the window by a cute teenage boy that actually seemed happy to be there. I loved him instantly but my love grew immensely for this full-of-life drive thru attendant before I drove away. He handed me my change and in the exchange dropped a dime onto the ground. His face went from smiley and nice to horrified. He was in shock that he had done something so terrible.

I, being the easy-going gal that I am, told him not to worry about it, that it was no big deal. He, on the other hand, refused to let me leave that dime there and said he could reach it. The KFC kid LITERALLY dove head first out the window leaving only his feet on the window sill. He grabbed the dime, walked his hands up the side of my car and handed me my dime as he pushed himself back into the tiny drive thru window.

Words cannot express how shocked and incredibly happy this made me. I was only sad that I was the only fatty in my car to witness it. The poor kid was holding his ribs after because he had bruised and scraped himself up on the way back in. I kept thinking about what that must have looked like to the cars behind me.

That KFC kid took customer service to a level that I’ve never seen and will probably never see again. I’m his new biggest fan. He’s going to make it big someday with a work ethic like that and I’ll simply say, “I knew him when….”

Gut Reaction

I’ve been thinking about my gut lately, mainly because it’s ever expanding and it’s hard not to notice it these days. Back when my gut was fit, I trusted it. It helped me avoid dangerous situations; it helped me pass tests I hadn’t studied for. Lately, it has become a bully. It makes my mind constantly think about Oreo milkshakes and other things that will make it expand. It’s trying to take over. I’m pretty sure it has lured me into trusting it so that one day it could do this to me. I try to punish it by not buying new pants. I leave it with a big red mark at the end of the night but it doesn’t seem to help. It’s persistent.

Toiletitarian

I think I might be a toiletitarian. I become very attached to certain bathroom stalls at work. So much so that it throws me off when I walk in and someone is in MY stall. Often times I get kind of mad and am not sure how to proceed. I’ve thought of all sorts of things to avoid toilet problems. “Out of Order” signs and other antics, though effective on a short term basis, do not have staying power. I have a feeling that I am the only person on the planet (or at least in my office) that notices or cares, therefore, I’d like to be the dictator of the toiletitarian office. I’ll keep it simple, during the hours that I’m here, no one is to use the stall directly next to the handicap stall on the far side of the room. As in any totalitarian society, breaking the very simple rule will have harsh consequences. Perhaps a month of not being allowed to lock the stall door will suffice. It would create the very humiliating scene of an adult sitting awkwardly on a toilet as someone attempts to use it, a co-worker nonetheless.