I’m out in northwest Philly, waiting for Jilly to come pick me up to take me home. I don’t wanna wait an hour for that dumb train* to come get me.
It’s Sunday, and every damn place is closed. There was one particularly promising spot that offered 10% off to City workers like myself… and it too was closed. The spots I found that were open were:
- McDonald’s
- One of those dumb vegan places that call all their menu items “beef” or “duck” or “chicken” but it’s actually made of lies
- This Fuckin Place
So those first two are obviously out- McDonald’s is evil and “vegan chicken” isn’t chicken. I don’t have a problem with vegan food- I actually love it. But I don’t love lies, and that’s what they were selling.
So I go off to This Fuckin Place. Why am I calling it This Fuckin place? Well…
Do you see a name?
It’s a dinky hole-in-the-wall in a not-so-great part of town, which is my ideal lunch experience. Fine dining can suck it.
I walk in, and everything is immediately awkward. I get it, I get it: White people aren’t exactly common in that part of town. So I’ll just be gracious, order something, pay, and leave.
Me, looking at the menu: Ooh, this chicken club sandwich with fries sounds pretty good.
Employee: Chicken… club?
Me, pointing at the item on the menu: Yeah. This one right here.
Employee: Uhhhhhh… okay…
Then Employee and their fellow Employees and their supervisor all have a kind of heated discussion in Spanish, and suddenly I wish I had continued studying Spanish.
They storm off into the kitchen… which was particularly weird because there appeared to be a kitchen behind the counter. And that’s when the questions came.
Employee: Lettuce?
Me: Yeah
Employee: Tomato?
Me: Yup
Employee: Uhhh… mayo…?
Me: Sure
Employee: What else?
Me: I don’t know what you have. Never mind. Lettuce, tomato, and mayo will be fine.
Employee: Um… okay.
Me, quietly: It’s just a fuckin sandwich what the hell
I look around the room, and I notice the staff is being equally awkward to everyone else. I figured this was a place that had a bunch of regulars, but now I’m convinced they’re just incompetent.
About fifteen minutes later, Employee returns.
Employee: Do you want that for here or to go?
Me: To go, please.
Employee: Um… okay.
Me, internally: Why does everything require such hesitation?! It’s a sandwich!
Another five minutes pass and they come back with my sandwich.
Employee: Okay… here you go…
Me: Great.
Me: Where are the fries?
Employee: It doesn’t come with fries.
Me: It says right here on the menu.
Me, pointing at the menu: Chicken club sandwich with fries.
Employee: Oh. Uh… we don’t really use that menu…
Me: What the hell menu do you use?
Employee: I don’t know, we just kind of… do… stuff.
Me: Of course you do.
Employee: Well… if you want fries you’ll have to wait longer.
Me: I would like fries with my “Chicken club with fries”, yeah.
Employee: Um… okay.
It’s now been so long that Jilly enters the restaurant.
Jilly: Hiiii
Me: Grumblegrumblemumblegrumb
Jilly: What’s going on?
Me: I ordered almost half an hour ago and I’m still waiting. Apparently they don’t use the menu here.
Jilly: Well that’s dumb.
I complain quietly for a few more minutes before they finally bring out my fries.
Jilly, quietly: Wow those fries look terrible.
Me, paying for the food: Welp never coming back here byeeeeeeeeee
The sandwich was okay. The fries were terrible but I ate them anyway because I’m an idiot.
*For anyone not in Philly, northwest Philly is ridiculously inaccessible for anyone who doesn’t own a car.