So yeah, a few hours ago I went shopping today for a very specific item, which took a while to find given its obscurity, and I had no clue where to look in order to find it.
However, eventually and by sheer luck, I stumbled on what I was looking for--and then, having realised it was getting late, and that I hadn't eaten anything all day, plumped to the nearby KFC for a meal (as you do).
On entering the restaurant, I was greeted by a very long queue and a floor that was extremely dirty, even by commercial fast-food outlet standards. As I waited in the queue for some 15 minutes, it suddenly occurred to me that KFC might have, through common sense, bothered to put a copy of their menu just before the queuing area. At least then, I could have saved time in deciding what to order before
being served instead of deciding what to order after
being served, as is consequently the case whenever I'm forced to order from the large, yet poorly laid out menu behind the ordering counter at the front of the queue, which of course, comes at risk of potentially testing the patience of other customers.
Eventually it was my turn to be served and by now my feet had set into the grime on the floor. After some squinting at the somewhat distant text on the menu, I decided to order the Barbecue Rancher meal, but not before asking whether or not it would be served with fries and a drink. Had this been MacDonald's or Burger King, I would have never felt the need to ask this, but with the KFC, menus somehow manage to achieve the ironic feat of being as large as you like while bearing cramped layouts, bloated images, and somewhat inconsistent information. For instance, the menu I read mentioned the inclusion of "fries" and a "drink" with the so-called Big Daddy meal (among other items), but strangely didn't mention the same items for the other meals, even though they also included fries and a drink according to the person at the ordering counter.
Eventually the person responsible for taking my order vaguely understood where I was coming from, and then confirmed that the Barbecue Rancher meal did indeed come with fries and a drink. Had she kept her mouth shut from that point I would have stuck with my order and "forgot" about the previous inconveniences.
But no--she then had to go on and bring up an unnecessary list of alternative sides included with the Barbecue Rancher meal even though I'd already decided on the standard version with the just fries and a drink. And as if that wasn't annoying enough, I was then told after
ordering and in a by-the-way sort of indifference that my meal would take 20 minutes to prepare. Bear in mind that 25 minutes had already passed since I entered the restaurant, and many of those could have been shaved by a sensibly placed menu with asterixes addressing certain items that take might up to 20 minutes to prepare.
Since a lot of time had already passed and I'd gotten hungry to point of thinking to eat the entire queue behind me, I reluctantly changed my order to the more available Fillet Burger meal. After receiving it, I naturally walked over to where all the straws, sachets and napkins were, grabbed the last 2 of the latter, then crossed the entire breath of the restaurant in a hopeless attempt to find a clean table. Had I not been on my feet all day, I would have most certainly eaten outside instead, and just as well since the person at the ordering counter wrongly assumed that I was ordering to go and literally shoved all my meal into the takeaway bag. Had I not felt so drained and hungry, I might have brushed this typical assumption aside--or rather, laughed ironically at the fact that my meal had at least been packaged appropriately, because in any other situation I would not have sat in such a dirty restaurant.
Anyway, I sat at the cleanest table I could find and then opened the bag. My grand prizes were, a cold fillet burger, an upside-down pack of fries and a half-full, luke-warm Pepsi. I'm sure you've heard the old saying: "The straw that broke the camel's back", right? Well given how hungry I felt, this was more like the lead pipe that shattered the camel's back, as by this point I'd had enough, and I was certainly not in any frame of mind to complain, much as I should have, through the so-called proper channels. Instead I resorted to something much more extreme, perhaps stupid, and ultimately out of character--at least by my standards since normally I'm a laid back person.
I took out a biro and wrote the following message on the napkin:
Next time, if you're going to charge me Ł5.30 for a meal, don't half-fill my Pepsi, don't serve me a cold fillet burger that ought to have been disposed of several orders ago (because believe me, I can taste the difference), and please, for the love of God, clean your restaurant once in a while, yeah? It really comes to something when my socks threaten to leave my shoes each time I take a step off your grimy floor! P.S. Your menu is rather confusing too!
I'LL ONLY SAY THIS ONCE: RIP ME OFF AGAIN AND YOU'LL BE SORRY!
By a disgruntled customer
I then scattered the remains of my meal as a parting gesture and left the restaurant--dignity intact.