Westfield
I am not a man of many indulgences. Sometimes I think that my greatest pleasures are monotony and insignificance. However, I am occasionally taken by an urge that is far stronger than my formidable frontal lobe, and I find myself drawn over great distances to locations of only marginal practical significance.
In short, I love chicken. More specifically, I love Chick-Fil-A. Let me explain.
Every aspect of the Chick-Fil-A experience is tailored to be beyond your wildest dreams. The food, though central to the experience, is hardly the whole reason to go. For example, the experienced staff of friendly order-takers (Chik Jockeys, as it were) are, far and away, the best in the fast food game. The staff of Burger King will not make eye contact, taking your order while having a conversation with Louie at the Drive-Thru window, and giving you a cheeseburger when you asked for a slice of pie; these are unempowered people, who are taking advantage of their position as the spout through which your Whopper flows. They abuse you because they aren't in a position to abuse anyone else.
Not so with Chick-Fil-A. No, S. Truett Cathy recruits only the best and brightest from his army of enthusiastic young Christians to take my order. They won't abuse you, because they are serving you the Glory Of God on a buttered bun, with a side of waffle fries.
In all honesty, read the company's mission in the link above. Chick-Fil-A really wants to show you the glory of Jesus by serving you chicken. I am as agnostic as they come, and still, somehow, they've got me curious in the ol' Jesuchristo. The food is that good.
Last year, I was without my car. I knew of a CFA location within a few miles of school, but I was not able to get there without walking a great distance. "Westfield Shoppingtown" was the place my beloved chicken was purported to reside. I did not know, when I set out this afternoon, that I was on my way to the first mall which I have ever desired to stay in for longer than absolutely necessary. Nor did I know that, on the 9 mile journey to Westfield, I would pass almost every store I longed for last year, including some stores I've longed for my whole life.
Ladies and Gentlemen, there are three... count them, THREE, 7-11 locations between here and Westfield Shoppingtown. There are BP stations. There are two Steak N Shakes, two Sonics, one Rally's, an ALDI grocery mart.....
Truly and honestly, I wanted to cry. The joy was that overwhelming.
Now, my mission is simple. I need to expose all of my friends to Chick-Fil-A, and surely they will open a location closer to school. Maybe even on school grounds. Maybe I can live there next year.
Praise the Poultry. That is all.
In short, I love chicken. More specifically, I love Chick-Fil-A. Let me explain.
Every aspect of the Chick-Fil-A experience is tailored to be beyond your wildest dreams. The food, though central to the experience, is hardly the whole reason to go. For example, the experienced staff of friendly order-takers (Chik Jockeys, as it were) are, far and away, the best in the fast food game. The staff of Burger King will not make eye contact, taking your order while having a conversation with Louie at the Drive-Thru window, and giving you a cheeseburger when you asked for a slice of pie; these are unempowered people, who are taking advantage of their position as the spout through which your Whopper flows. They abuse you because they aren't in a position to abuse anyone else.
Not so with Chick-Fil-A. No, S. Truett Cathy recruits only the best and brightest from his army of enthusiastic young Christians to take my order. They won't abuse you, because they are serving you the Glory Of God on a buttered bun, with a side of waffle fries.
In all honesty, read the company's mission in the link above. Chick-Fil-A really wants to show you the glory of Jesus by serving you chicken. I am as agnostic as they come, and still, somehow, they've got me curious in the ol' Jesuchristo. The food is that good.
Last year, I was without my car. I knew of a CFA location within a few miles of school, but I was not able to get there without walking a great distance. "Westfield Shoppingtown" was the place my beloved chicken was purported to reside. I did not know, when I set out this afternoon, that I was on my way to the first mall which I have ever desired to stay in for longer than absolutely necessary. Nor did I know that, on the 9 mile journey to Westfield, I would pass almost every store I longed for last year, including some stores I've longed for my whole life.
Ladies and Gentlemen, there are three... count them, THREE, 7-11 locations between here and Westfield Shoppingtown. There are BP stations. There are two Steak N Shakes, two Sonics, one Rally's, an ALDI grocery mart.....
Truly and honestly, I wanted to cry. The joy was that overwhelming.
Now, my mission is simple. I need to expose all of my friends to Chick-Fil-A, and surely they will open a location closer to school. Maybe even on school grounds. Maybe I can live there next year.
Praise the Poultry. That is all.
posted by Alfonzo Debussy | 3:12 PM
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