A few years back, my friend Chris and I found ourselves craving some Kentucky Fried Chicken (motto: "Nobody Deep Fries Stuff Like We Do!"). So off to the local KFC franchise we went. Once there, we strode purposefully up to a counter where a bored looking cashier waited to take our orders. Chris and I pondered.
"Hmmm, what are you going to get?" I asked.
"I dunno. Extra Crispy, I guess. Yeah, that sounds good."
"Does to me, too."
During this exchange, the cashier continued to look on. Finally, having decided from our lengthy -- and chatty -- perusal of the giant menu board what our choicy chicken would be, Chris took a step forward and said, "Yeah, urm, I guess I'll have the three-piece Extra Crispy … and an extra biscuit."
"I'm sorry, sir," the cashier said, "we're out of Extra Crispy."
"Oh, well, alright. Then, urm, make it Original Recipe."
"Sorry, sir, we don't have any Original Recipe."
"Huh?"
"We're out of chicken right now."
"You're. Out. Of. CHICKEN?"
Indeed, the Kentucky Fried Chicken was out of chicken. Other than it being ironic and more than a little bit funny (the funny came later, after we'd finally found lunch and our stomachs had stopped growling), the real issue was that during all the time we were obviously discussing what sort of CHICKEN we wanted, the cashier just stood there, watching us, not bothering to tell us that there was not, in fact, any chicken to be had.
Would it have required so much effort to say, "Sorry, gentlemen, our deceased-poultry delivery truck is running late today and although our manager has popped off to the grocery store to acquire some emergency stock, we currently don't have any deep fried clucky goodness to sell you. Could I interest you in a biscuit and some mashed potatoes, instead?"
I guess it would have.
This story comes to mind because I spent a few hours on the phone the other day dealing with (trying to deal with) customer service people about the fact that my television had been at a service center waiting for a part for thirty days.
My side of the conversation (condensed form): "Yeah, you folks said that you'd check on it and a 'resolution specialist' would get back to me in three or four days? Well, it's been a week and no resolution specialist has called. I got a call from somebody looking for a guy named 'Ricky,' but no resolution specialist."
Their side of the conversation (not so condensed): "Let me look that up [twenty minute wait -- without muzak]. Yes, here we go. We're sorry sir, but that part isn't available."
Me: "Okay, what does that mean?"
Them: "We don't have that part."
Me again: "Yes, I understand your words. But what do they MEAN?"
Them: "That part is unavailable."
Me (going at it from a different angle): "My TV is under warranty, right?"
Them: "Yes, we'll have to send you another television."
Me: "Oh, okay. When can I expect that?"
Them: "We don't currently have any of that model in our warehouses."
Me: "Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Three or four dozen deep breaths later I had managed to calm down some. Into the phone I said, "Still there?"
"Yes, sir."
"So, do you have any chicken?"
Supposedly, the author is getting his replacement television in the next 7 to 10 days. He doesn't believe this, not for a minute. But he can still be contacted at parablehead@yahoo.com
