I met my wife during lunch hour from work at our lawyer’s office to sign away our souls for some home financing stuff.
Afterwards we stopped for lunch at Kentucky Fried Chicken.
We picked that location because we wanted to eat chicken.
This becomes important shortly.
We entered the establishment and ordered two regular Twister meals.
They oddly still have these in Peru, but not in the US any longer.
This highly complex food item consisted of a wrap containing lettuce, tomato, spicy ranch dressing and either fried chicken strips in the regular, or roasted chicken strips in the less than creatively named “roasted” one.
The guy started to fill the order and informed us in his thick Jamaican accent, that the first one we ordered was ready.
However, there weren’t enough strips for two.
I had a long history of the chicken strip supply running out just before I reached the counter at KFC. It may have been key item leading to my current healthier diet.
He let me know he would make me one “special.”
Foolishly assuming he was referring to the freshly made strips that were almost done cooking we waited a bit until he provided the full order and sat down.
I immediately noticed an unusual taste, to say the least. This prompted an inquiry to my wife if they changed the sauce.
She let me know that hers tasted normal, and asked if perhaps mine had the "special" sauce.
I double checked the menu board to discover no evidence of varieties of Twister ingredients, other than the choice between Fried of Roasted Chicken.
I forced another bite, and said to her,
"Boy, they must cook the new fish they have in with the chicken, you can really taste it.”
After a couple more increasingly unpleasant bites, it finally dawned on me that my Twister was, in fact, filled with the cut patty of their (short lived for excessively good reasons) Fish Burger. No change was made to the (highly incompatible with processed fish patty) Spicy Ranch Dressing, however.
I seethed up to the counter and proclaimed,
"There's fish in my Twister"
Mr. Counter Man happily and Jamacanly exclaimed,
"Yes, I told you I'd make you a special."
Exasperation creeped further into my voice as I reminded him,
"But you never indicated that a ‘Special’ was fish, not chicken."
He looked deflated, surprised and hurt while asking,
"Don't you like fish?"
Holding tight to my last nerve I answered in a tooth grinding monotone,
"I ordered chicken, you never mentioned that a special was fish, I want chicken."
The light bulb sputtered into existence over his head and he offered,
"OK, I'll make you one right now!"
Then he pointed at the partially eaten evil tasting wrap on my tray and cheerily added,
"You keep that one!"
So I finally, got my lunch.
As I sat down I checked the menu board in detail again, confirming once and for all there was, no "Twifishster" listed.
And rightly so
Because it was NASTY!
It was hard to get upset with the guy, partially because he looked so proud of creating a menu item.
And honestly - mostly because I know it wasn’t his fault, as I’m cursed when it comes to placing food orders.
I gave that server the benefit of the doubt when he assumed I understood the "special" Twister meant fish.
I gave the work cafeteria breakfast lady the benefit of the doubt when ordering a "sausage and cheese omelet" netted me a sausage on the side of my cheese omelet.
But the curse became proven the morning I ordered…
And I quote:
"One scrambled egg with cheese, and bacon. Mix them all together please"
The plate I was handed by the chef contained:
A side order of bacon
A fried egg
Forcing me to stick with my instant oatmeal packs forever.