America at its finest (the computer’s always right?)

(This is from my man, Jay-Kinz, of Dallas, via email)

Hey Pete:

Nobody else would appreciate this, so I thought I’d share this stupid encounter.  I stopped at a restaurant that serves mainly rotisserie chicken.  So, I get to the cash register, look at the menu and order a half a rotisserie chicken.

As I reach for my wallet, the cashier asks me if I want white or dark meat.

As a reflex, I say “white meat”.  But, then I ask her, “Wait.  Doesn’t half a chicken, contain both white and dark meat?”

She turns around to look at the menu as if she is going to see a diagram of a chicken.  Not finding the answer to my question on the menu behind her, she replies with the ever popular, “What did you want to know?”

“You asked me if I wanted my half a chicken as white meat or dark meat.  I thought a half chicken would contain both white and dark meat.”

Now even more confused, she starts pecking on her cash register, probably sending a note to the kitchen to spit on my chicken.  Then she says, “Well, the computer asked if you wanted white or dark meat.”

I say, “OK.  Fair enough.  So, does that mean that my half a chicken will only have white meat?”

Finally, in a fit of honesty she just says “I don’t know”, types a few more things into her cash register and gives me a receipt.

I go to sit down and wait for my chicken.  A few minutes later my number gets called and I walk up to the counter to get my food.  I grab the tray and pull it towards me.  Not surprisingly, something was amiss.  Not only did I get both white and dark meat, I got turkey.  I get the cashiers attention (who is intentionally avoiding eye contact).  She asks what I need.  I tell her, “I ordered half a chicken.”

She looks at my tray and says, “With white meat, right?”

I say, “Yes.  We will get to that in a second.  But, the first thing is, this is turkey.”

Looking very confused, she asks if I am sure.  At this point I start looking for Ashton Kutcher.  I have got to be getting Punk’d right?  I assure her that I am sure that I have been given a turkey.

Then she very confidently says, “We don’t sell half a turkey.”

“OK?  Can I get chicken?”

“Just one sec,” she says, walking away from me, back into the kitchen.  She comes out and tells me they are working on it and will have my food out shortly.

A minute later, there is another plate of food for me.  I go up and pick it up.  This time it is a half a chicken, of course with both white and dark meat (all in one piece still attached to the breastbone).

As she slides the tray to me, she asks if this is what I ordered.

I say, “It’s perfect.  Half a chicken with all white meat.  Thanks.”


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