I've mentioned before my
fondness for Popeye's Chicken, so it isn't so strange that on Sunday when Mark
asked what we were going to do for dinner I went with the Popeye's. As is my
usual custom I sent Mark over to the ghetto alone to pick some up. Not because
I have anything against going over there, I just hate driving with Mark. Forty five
minutes after leaving on the chicken run, Mark came bursting into the house,
his mouth running on overdrive.
"Oh my god, you should
have come with me. It was terrifying. I was waiting for our chicken and you
could hear this crunching and crashing coming from across the street. Everybody
in the place ran over to the front window to see what the hell was happening.
It was like in slow motion. An exterminator's truck filled with those tanks of
poison gas was slamming into other cars. It jumped the median, plowed through
some bushes, and then somebody yelled to get out of the way. I
jumped on top of a table. Alan, I didn't even know I could still jump. So
anyway, everybody managed to clear away just as the truck
slammed into the big glass window. The whole building shook."
Having finished his narration of the incident at Popeye's, Mark took a breath and opened up his bag of chicken.
"I can't eat this
shit!" he screamed. "This isn't what I ordered. Goddamnit, I have to
go back."
"Mark, if what you just told me is true, they aren't even going to let you near that place much less let you go in there."
"Mark, if what you just told me is true, they aren't even going to let you near that place much less let you go in there."
"Oh yes they will, and
you're coming with me this time."
So Mark and I got in the car,
and by taking side streets we were able to get into the Popeye's parking lot.
We got out of the car, marched right past the police, right past the EMS people, right past the
truck leaking poison gas, over the shattered glass and into Popeye's. The lady behind the counter
listened to Mark's complaint, looked into the bag of chicken, and said,
"Oh yes, this is that white lady's food. She probably got yours in all
that confusion."
So the nice lady behind the
counter made the order right, and even threw in an extra chicken thigh for me.
Like I said, I love that Popeye's Chicken.
THAT is customer service.
ReplyDeleteAs you probably know... Lot's of Popeye's stores here.
ReplyDeleteWish you had been there and gotten Mark jumping up on the table on tape! That would have been a great one to watch. Glad he wasn't hurt and you were able to enjoy your chicken!!
ReplyDelete