It was a regular Monday afternoon in early December. As I pulled up at home after a long day in the harsh Milwaukee winter, a thought struck me – tonight was a KFC night. I decided to place an order on the KFC app – much easier, or so I thought.
I placed my order from home at 8:21pm. It was such an efficient process – you had time to see the items on the menu and truly dig deep to find out what you really wanted, unlike that rushed feeling you get when the speaker asks what you’d like.
When I drove into the Drive-Thru™, I saw a piece of paper stuck to the menu board out of the corner of my eye, so I reversed back a bit. Squinting a little to see the 14 point typed words and worried about the impatient car behind me who couldn’t see why I’d stopped, I saw that the speaker apparently wasn’t working and all orders had to be taken in the restaurant.
I drove forward, wondering if I should just stop at the window as I had already selected “I am at the Drive-Thru™ speaker” on the app before I saw the sign. I hovered there for a minute but was ignored, and I decided to park up out the front. Even then, I was still blissfully ignorant of the ordeal ahead. Realising with a start that I was in awful pyjamas and had no shoes with me, I was reluctant to go in to complete the order. It was $37.61 and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to even get a refund without speaking to someone inside, so I shrugged and resigned myself to feeling like an idiot in what I was wearing and due to the fact I was unhygienically walking into a food store with no shoes on.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself, pushing the glass doors open and entering the world of KFC Layton Ave. To my left a man sat, slumped onto a padded chair, staring vacantly into space. I hovered around the counter, quite close to the register. Behind the desk was a team member with a blue Chux in his hand, meticulously cleaning in great detail. I watched curiously as he knelt, staring at individual spots of uncleanliness that were invisible to the naked eye with a palpable sense of gravitas. He paid no attention to me. He turned his head slightly at one point but his eyes bounced off me at great speed. I immediately felt that I was a burden and contemplated just writing off the $37.61 and walking back to my car, but another team member popped around the corner, looking as though he was coming to speak to the first one. Perhaps some cleaning tips were in about to be passed on?
He saw me and stood behind the register to take my order. I explained I had an online order but I’d already selected Drive-Thru™. He tapped keys on the register for what seemed like an eternity, not being able to figure it out. I felt bad – I shouldn’t have selected Drive-Thru™. He called for yet another team member to assist him, then all seemed OK - now I just had to wait. The hard work was over. Just a few minutes and I could be imbibing 11 secret herbs and spices for myself. I sat down on a seat near the counter and settled in. It was 8:30pm.
I could now take a closer look at my surroundings – the man I had noticed on my way in was looking at me with what I thought was a kind of lazy, sardonic amusement. I assumed he was looking at my terrible PJ combination and bare feet. Now, knowing what I know, I’m pretty sure he was just looking at me in sympathy for what was to come. I was so innocent. I didn’t know how long he’d been there, but the way he was slumped back in his seat and the utterly resigned expression on his face suggested it had been a while. He was backed by the rest of the dining area, and as I watched him I saw the dirty floor and a mop haphazardly leaning against one of the many askew chairs, as if a team member had stopped cleaning to run to the counter and serve a customer. But of course, I knew that couldn’t be the case!
At 8:40pm, about 10 minutes into sitting on the padded seat, a man walked in. He walked to the counter and spent a while trying to get the attention of the people in the kitchen, using wild hand gestures and sporting a grin behind which I detected a slight hint of uncertainty. The team member with a Chux in one hand had since disappeared, and the mop still lay forgotten over in the corner. Finally someone noticed him, and a team member walked out through the staff entrance and exchanged words of greeting and a hug with this customer. They laughed and chatted a little together; it seemed clear from their conversation that he worked there. The team member who took my order was only too happy to take his. Another customer came in at this point and his order was taken right away, as he ended up just behind the non-working team member. I shudder to think what would have happened to this poor soul had he come in to find the counter unattended.
At 8:46pm, about 16 minutes after my order had been "placed", the man seated opposite me received his order. He took it with relish, threw one more pitying glance at me (and my PJs), and briskly left the restaurant. One down.
It is important to note that the Drive-Thru™ was well and truly not in operation. I saw cars drive up to the window but they were systematically and almost aggressively ignored. Only 1 car parked and came inside – and they left quietly after standing at the counter for 5 minutes without anyone acknowledging them. There seemed to be much activity occurring out the back - I heard multiple voices and the sounds of “things happening”. I’m still not exactly sure whose orders they were preparing that were taking them so long – there were no MenuLog drivers waiting on online orders so I’m assuming it wasn’t that. But then again, what would I know?
At one point, the team member who had taken my order came out and addressed me. “Online order?” he bellowed, by way of getting my attention. I’m glad he differentiated as there were 2 whole customers waiting and we could have been easily confused.
“We don’t have any original fillets so can we replace them with chicken tenders?” he asked earnestly.
I was a bit puzzled because I didn’t think I’d ordered a fillet, but I assented right away as I didn’t want to hold up the proceedings any more. The other man who was in the restaurant was now pretty restless. It was about 8:50pm at this point, so I’d been waiting 20 minutes and he had been waiting about 15. He was standing right up against the counter, leaning on it, tapping his foot, staring intently into the kitchen where I assume he was trying to stare down the food prep team. I was pretty bored too, but couldn’t bring myself to tap my feet, so I walked outside for a bit. After 5 minutes there was a flurry of activity at the counter so I walked back in (slowly, as I was fairly confident there was no need to rush).
The team member handed the bag to the impatient foot-tapper, and said “I’ve put some extra stuff in because you had to wait so long”. The man took the bag and left in a hurry. About 5 mins later, at 9:00pm, I was referred to again – “Online order?” I went to the counter. The team member who’d taken my order had a bag in his hand to give me.
I wasn’t prepared for what came next. I’m not sure if anyone could have been.
“Regular gravy?” he inquired loudly. I was really confused – the order was 2 burger combos and some popcorn chicken. There was a gravy with one of the burger meals but I still didn’t know what he meant.
“Sorry?” I asked politely.
“Regular gravy?” he reiterated.
I honestly felt really stupid at this point, like, I really didn’t know why he was saying regular gravy. He got called away just as I said “I don’t know what you mean.” To this day I don’t know if he heard me.
He came back after a while with a regular gravy and put it in the bag.
“I’ve put some extra stuff in there because you’ve had to wait so long,” he said generously. He said goodbye and went to walk away. I didn’t want to be a pain but I was really thirsty so asked if it was OK if I could also get the drinks that had come with the order. He seemed surprised before asking what drinks they were. I repeated the drinks on the order, glancing up at the screen with my order still displayed for all to see, and he kindly presented them to me.
I left at that point, shooting a sympathetic glance at the two people who had lined up at the counter in the meantime – they really had no idea what they were in for. I wasn’t to know that my glance exactly mirrored the one shot to me when I was at the beginning of my journey, 40 minutes before. I drove home in a daze, considerably rumpled in spirit but still looking forward to seeing what extra stuff he had put in my bag – a fairly good consolation prize, I thought.
As I inspected the items, I realised what he’d meant by the Great Original Fillet Shortage of 2019 – they had put 2 chicken tenders between a bun and added some mayo to make my Original Bacon and Cheese burger (on which there was no cheese OR bacon, perhaps I read it wrong?). There was a missing Large Chips. The only extra was a REGULAR GRAVY … which now I had no use for, having no chips to dip into it.
Reflecting on my journey into the wild and unpredictable world of KFC Layton Ave in Milwaukee, I felt very self-reflective, and a little bit introspective as I asked of myself and the universe but one question.
Regular gravy?
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