Musings on Sports, Politics and Life in general

Kentucky Fried Horsesh!t


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I sent this to Kentucky Fried Chicken’s corporate headquarters yesterday. Apparently, they thought I was kidding.

On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the best score possible, I would rate your Fallsington, PA store a -10.

The condition of the restaurant appeared unsanitary and unappealing. The waste receptacles were filled to overflowing, it looked as though nobody has swept the floor in days and the counter was sticky. Perhaps someone spilled a soda last month and nobody thought to wipe it up?

Regardless, my family wanted your chicken for dinner, so I soldiered on. Despite it being the typical dinner hour, only one employee was taking orders – and she was also handling the drive-thru window. After waiting 20 minutes to place my order, this poor creature had to inform me that a Kentucky Fried Chicken had run out of… fried chicken. Could I wait ten minutes until the next batch was ready? As I said, my family had their hearts set on your chicken, so of course I said yes.

Ten minutes turned into thirty. I asked to see the manager, but was informed he was not available. I suppose not having a manager might explain the unsatisfactory condition of the restaurant. It could also go a long way toward explaining how a fried chicken restaurant didn’t have any, you know, FRIED CHICKEN. It certainly would explain why I had been standing in your store (no way I was sitting in those filthy excuses for seats) for nearly an hour. Anyway, the employee at the counter did offer me a free soda for my trouble and when I declined (I am a diabetic, as I explained to her), she included a free chocolate cake with my order. How a chocolate cake is any better for a diabetic than a soda is a little difficult for me to comprehend, but I suppose you cover that in employee training somewhere.

Another ten minutes went by, and my order was finally ready. I honestly can not recall the last time I was so thankful to leave a restaurant, even if my wallet was $40 lighter than when I arrived. At least my order was correct. I arrived home tired, hungry, and with a family ready to gnaw off my left arm. Great relief was evident as my wife unpacked the bags and began to plate our long anticipated, desperately desired food. I sat down to my meal, ready to devour every last morsel. I was halfway though my first piece of chicken when, to my horror, I discovered it was bleeding! Yes! Despite taking an hour to cook your world-famous chicken, your store had served my family a salmonella infested bucket of undercooked poultry. Happily, my wife cranked up the oven (because who isn’t happy with a 425 degree oven roasting the house on a 90 degree summer day?), finished cooking our chicken and saved our lives.

Now, I do need to give credit where credit is due. Despite her poor training, lack of support and a curious fascination with her cell phone, the employee at the counter/drive-thru retained enough of her humanity to be genuinely concerned about the situation. Not that she was able to do anything to correct the problems, mind you, but at least she was upset by the entire episode.

I hope to hear back from you within the next 24 hours, with your ideas for ensuring something like this never happens again. It would certainly behoove you to do so, as at 2pm tomorrow this letter will be posted to a number of social media outlets. Thanks in advance for reading this and correcting the situation.

Well, it’s now 5pm tomorrow and still not a peep from Colonel Sanders.
Suffice it to say, I will never eat at KFC again. 

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