My son has discovered the love that is Popeyes chicken. We always stop for dinner on the way home from church on Sunday evenings, and for the kids, that means nuggets. Chipotle for the adults. Chipotle is love.
I must back up a bit to last week.
We were doing some shopping at the mall and decided to get dinner at the mall. The choices were McDonald's and Popeyes. My son chose Popeyes.
Me: Hi! (waves)
CG: Counter girl with the inability to talk in a normal volume.
KG: Kitchen guy with an equal inability to speak in a normal volume
Me: I'd like a 5-piece kids meal with a fruit punch, please.
CG: (to the guy in the kitchen) I NEED FIVE NUGGETS!
KG: THERE'S SOME LEFT OVER FROM THE LAST ORDER! (points to a lonely box next to the chicken bins)
CG picks up the box and dumps the nuggets into the box along with the fries. She shoves the box at me along with the receipt from my credit card and says, "SIGN!"
Pardon me for living. I'm not exactly happy at having "leftovers", but my kid is hungry, there's now a line behind me, and I figure that new nuggets would probably be too hot to eat anyway. So I took the box and hoped that my kid wasn't going to get food poisoning or something from nuggets kept at dubious temperature.
She takes the slip after I sign it and shove my copy to me and walks away. I keep standing there.
CG: WHAT?
Me: My fruit punch?
CG: *sighs heavily* (turns to another worker near the soda machine) GET ME A FRUIT PUNCH!
I took my kids meal and the fruit punch and we found seats far, far away from the Popeyes.
Fast forward to tonight. As we left church, we asked the dear boy what he would like to eat for dinner. He replied that he would like Popeyes because the toys there are better. OK, whatever, the chicken's better there too. I don't care, because I want to get home and get to watching football.
We pulled into the parking lot and I asked my husband if he was going to go through the drive through or if he was going inside. (He always gets the food, dear man.)
H: Husband. (*hearts and love*)
M: Me again. (hi!)
(it may be important to note that we are both former fast-food slingers, and thus know what a bad situation looks like.)
H: Drive thru.
M: Are you sure? They have someone parked and another car behind. It doesn't look good.
H: True. Maybe I should go inside. *both glance inside and see a crowd* (It's not looking good for 7 pm on a Sunday night.)
M: By the looks of it, we're hosed no matter what we do.
I sat in the car while he went inside. I looked at the clock when he went in. It was 7:09.
At 7:29 he returns. Yes, a full TWENTY MINUTES had passed since he went in. All to get 2 kids meals.
That Popeyes didn't have nuggets. Strips it was. That's ok, that's not bad service, it's just what they had. No problem.
I couldn't help but notice that my fruit punch had miraculously become a Sprite. My husband explained that the fruit punch AND the pink lemonade were out. The other choices were coke, tea, or strawberry fanta, which he knows I hate. I don't drink caffeinated drinks.
He had to go back for the kids meal toys. Is it really that hard to throw 2 of those cheap plastic pieces of crap in the bag?
The receipt showed that BBQ sauce was asked for. We got home, opened up the bag, and found sweet and sour sauce.
My husband also got dessert, apple pies. He just showed me the box to one of the pies, marked 4:30. I don't know if that's when it was made or when it should have been thrown away, but either way, it was after 7 when we got our food, so at the very least, it was nearly 3 hours old. I'm thinking it may be when it was supposed to be removed, as another in the bag was marked 7:30.
My husband also just told me about the Nasty Chicken Bucket. (edit: sorry, I hit post before I went into the nasty chicken bucket.) Apparently, there was a bucket sitting on the floor that they were throwing the messed up pieces of chicken into. All Day Long. He got a picture of it, and that will be included in my letter.
EDIT: Here's the nasty chicken bucket:

They are SO getting a letter.
I know that I'm probably being overly sensitive. I'm not angry, but this is the service that I've come to expect from fast food places.