Sometimes the hood brings the pain in embarrassing fashion.
Kentucky had a promotion today where they were giving away a piece of their Grilled Chicken in order to jump start people paying for some. So your esteemed author figured to swing over to one after the morning business was wrapped up.
I walk in, there’s a line six deep, and I figured I was gonna need to grab a Snickers as I would be in for a long campaign. But that was the pick-up line. The order line was clear. Cool! So I order a couple of Snackers and ask for a free thigh, pay and wait, figuring things would be straightforward.
Not 60 seconds later, a line snakes in back of me ordering with the rush of someone who’s been smokin’ that water. Should be neither here nor there, one would think. You think?
Five minutes pass, day laborer types were taking back pieces of chicken that were exposed to the dining area, and the workers were putting them right back under the lamps! (Suspect much? They gave those same pieces out to unsuspecting folks in the drive-thru.) Suddenly this furious pack of old ladies and county broads gets worked to a rich lather…and me with my hurt back listening out for the new material.
“Why don’t they just give us the chicken?!?”
“What are y’all doing back there?”
“At another Kentucky, they would just make a box and pass it out!”
All the loudmouth foolishness you can handle in one afternoon.
One woman sees a Latino cat given three sodas and immediately assumes “Look at them, see? They givin’ they people the hook up.”
OK, cut the crap, lady. Are you seriously assuming they would pull something like so blatant? You think Latinos are incapable of ordering and paying for something? Nah, they’re just randomly dropping free Pepsis on their own kind to stick it to you. Gotta love how the racism comes out when folks get angry.
(As I write this, what’s up with Leonardo DiCaprio with a Grambling cap on his head at the Laker game? Plus, Denver whacks New Orleans 121-63. Goddamn Bizarro World in the NBA…but I digress….)
Five more minutes pass and at that point, they were about ready to break out pitch forks and torches. One twentysomething brother (see guy pointing, top pic) finally goes off, rushes the order counter, yelling “F*ck that! I want my money back! F*ck this sh*t!” I had to call him on that, just as I did the aforementioned civil rights activist.
“There’s babies in here, money. Watch your mouth.”
Of course he didn’t care. And neither did the rest of the mob, so wrapped up in needing their chicken fix that all sense of decency went by the boards.
How about going off like this at the city council meeting to get things done? Where’s this anger about the local gang making trouble or about Black-on-Black crime?
But nah, save that anger…for when goddamn chicken isn’t in your hands fast enough. Preying on people that are doing their jobs as fast as they possibly can. At a place you’ll continue to patronize at that. Not to mention being ungrateful for something that’s free and really isn’t that important in the bigger picture.
All seriousness, the hood is at once a beautiful, vibrant place and its own worst enemy.
Bet tomorrow it’ll be like that at El Pollo Loco too.
And the new product? It’s decent, nothing to write home about.
Anyways, any of you experience similar incidents?