Chicken run

When hunger strikes and I suddenly feel a craving for a succulent chicken fillet accompanied by some perinnaise and a warm, soft bun, I can concentrate on very little else until I satisfy my hunger. This particular yearning struck like a wet hand across the face while watching Desperate Housewives (practically the love of my life), so you may well understand how devastated I was when I had to peel myself off the couch and away from the TV in order to scratch the itch that was Nando’s.

Arriving at Nando’s several minutes later, I was pleasantly surprised to find the shop empty. I approached one of the women behind the till and greeted her with a: “Hello, how are you?”, which was met with a somewhat chilly: “Fine”. Giving the Ice Queen the benefit of the doubt, I smiled back at her with my toothiest smile and said, “Can I have a chicken burger? Just the burger thanks”. Ice Queen looked blankly at me while punching in my order. I was impressed by her well-trained peripheral vision but slightly disturbed by her perpetual gaze.

After a few seconds of awkward silence (like that experienced after greeting someone and accidently planting a kiss on their left ear instead of on their check because they were simply going in for a hug), Ice Queen asked me if I would like to make my order into a meal. I replied with a, “Uh…no thanks. Just the burger”. Ice Queen was enjoying this. She turned to her equally icy accomplice behind the second till and said something to her friend under her breath which I couldn’t hear but probably wouldn’t have appreciated if I had. The two of them sniggered before the Ice Queen returned her icy stare to me. [Another long, awkward pause]

I blinked once…then twice before she clicked her tongue and said, “Lemon and herb or perrrri-perrrri?”

“Lemon and herb”, I replied.

“Pineapple or cheese?”

“Sorry?” I responded.

“Do you want extra pineapple or cheese?” Ice Queen said, getting annoyed.

“No thanks”, I answered.

[More punching of buttons with more staring. I begin to feel slightly hot and shaky]

I handed the Ice Queen my debit card saying, “It’s a savings”. Ice Queen swiped my card with such violence that I felt my heart quicken and suddenly felt the urge to swallow the lump developing in my throat.

“Cheque or savings?” Ice queen asked. [Is she kidding?]

“S-a-v-i-n-g-s”, I answered.

Ice Queen handed me the key pad. I pressed in my 4 digit code as quickly as possible and handed it back to her. Looking evermore unimpressed, she took the key pad from me and handed me my slip. I signed my slip and pushed it back towards the Ice Queen who was by this stage, leaning on her right elbow with the copy of my slip in her hand. Pissed off at her obvious attempts to be as rude as was humanly possible, I snatched my slip from her hand and without another word, turned on my heel and stormed towards the waiting area, hearing agitated clicking and muttering from the direction of the tills.

A few minutes later, my order number was called out and I jumped up, eager to avoid being turned into stone by the Ice Queen and excited to return to my beloved TV show. I walked to my car in disbelief, unable to fathom what I had done wrong while scratching around in my industrial-sized handbag for my car keys.

[Scratch, scratch]

[Scratch, scratch, scratch]

Nothing.

[Arrive at car and begin emptying contents of bag onto floor]

Nothing.

#@%*!!!!!

[Put everything back into bag, throw bag over shoulder in a huffy and storm back into shop]

As I reentered the shop, the Ice Queen looked up at me, a sly smirk plastered on her round face. I asked: “Did I perhaps leave my car keys on your counter?” – my voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. She slid her hand out from behind the till to reveal my keys. I thanked her and walked straight out again. 

I could think of nothing but four letter words for the remainder of Desperate Housewives...but the burger was worth it.