We went to KFC for dinner after a grocery shop that ran late. (It feels wrong to buy takeout with a trunk full of groceries, but we know that by the time we unload them and cook them, the baby will be melting down.)
Perfect Husband ordered 8 pieces of chicken.
The girl punched it in and read us the total. PH glanced at the menu.
“I’m confused,” he said. “Why does it cost MORE than the “8 piece with fries” deal on the sign over there?”
“Um, well, I put it as dark meat. You did want dark meat, right?”
“Yes…” said PH, “but that doesn’t cost extra, does it?”
“Wait… did you want fries?”
“Not really, no,” said PH.
“Oh, okay, hold on a second.” The girl punched some numbers and read us a new, larger, total.
“Okay, that’s a dollar MORE expensive,” said PH with the air of one who is trying to remain patient with an unreasonable toddler (we have experience in such matters).
The girl looked at him blankly.
I stepped in. “Why does this cost more than the 8 piece meal listed right up there?” I pointed.
“Well, I put in two 4 piece boxes and then took out the fries…” she said.
“So it’s cheaper to get the 8 piece with fries deal than to just get 8 pieces of chicken without fries?” PH asked her. She shrugged. We looked at each other.
“We’ll have THAT deal.” He pointed at the 8 piece with fries deal. She rang in the total obediently and PH handed over his card.
…Sometimes, you can understand how cranky old people get so cranky.
