She thrust the chicken breast over the counter at the server.
"I don't like wet chicken!" she bellowed.
I was at a buffet restaurant. The lady in front of me had fried
chicken, green beans, some type of greens, and bread on her
plate. All of her food including a big fried chicken breast was
placed on the same compartmentalized plate.
You know the type of plate you had in elementary school that was
divided into three sections. The juice from the beans and greens
had somehow seeped into the chicken section and had gotten on
the chicken breast. Thus, the wet chicken.
"I can't stand wet chicken either," another lady echoed.
"I sure don't like wet chicken," still another piped from the
serving line. It was amazing that almost the entire line in
that area soon was rumbling and grumbling about wet chicken as
the exasperated server graciously gave the lady another big
I could see her pondering what to do with the "wet" chicken.
It was raining that day. Some were homeless not far away.
They were wet themselves and would have loved to get a piece of
If I was a fried chicken eater I would have told the server that
I would take the "wet" chicken. It was nothing but a bit of
vegetable juice on the chicken and a small bit at that.
As a matter of fact the juice was far healthier than the
chicken. I looked at the grumblers and noted that none of them
particularly needed that fried chicken, wet or dry.
There is nothing wrong with asking for a correction in the way
that you like your food. Usually it's not the request but the
spirit behind the request that makes it decent or destructive.
It's that way with most things.
The server stood over a hot serving line.
The customer line snaked around the restaurant with the after
church crowd. Standing for hours over steaming hot food with a
hot hairnet in a hot uniform made for a hot day.
It doesn't matter whether it’s a food serving line, a ticket
line, a checkout line, or whatever, when you are serving other
people you get tired and it sure helps to have a little
compassion and consideration.
The thing is, all of the people in the line weren't coming from
the clubs, or a game, or the races. They were just getting out
Imagine the server's thoughts as she saw the "wet" chicken thrust
into her face held by the hand of a church goer mad as a wet hen.
~A MountainWings Original~