My Run-In Down at the Zaxby's

I had a strange run-in at Zaxby's the other day. This encounter has been seriously weighing on me, so I have decided to unburden myself.

My best friend Morgan and I were hungry one day, and decided to take a break from shopping and go get some delicious chicken. I was wearing my purple pants -- my special purple pants with a zipper and two buttons. Now, the fact that these pants had two buttons often threw me off. Usually, when putting on pants, one must perform two tasks: button one, zip two. But in these pants there are three tasks: button one, button two, zip three. Allow me to illustrate:

Now please keep these pants in mind as I continue the story. They will definitely appear later. 

If you've ever heard the Dane Cook skit about his "Run-in down at the 'Wall'," this is nothing like that. It's nothing like that because Dane Cook is cool. I am not cool. Not even close. 

As I walk into Zaxby's, I see one cashier open. The man behind the counter is currently helping another customer. But no matter! As I walk up, a second cashier man steps up to cashier number two, ready and willing to serve. Now this second man was mildly attractive, so I was ready to step right up and give him my order. Unfortunately, as I'm two feet from the counter, the first customer departs with her receipt, giving me with now TWO options. Which one do I choose?! 

My brain ("being so fantastical") does some quick thinking: if I go to the first cashier, the one who was helping the other lady, then it would defeat the purpose of the second guy coming to the counter. If I go to the second cashier, then it would seem like I thought he was attractive and wanted to talk to him. But then it would make sense to go to number two because he came to the counter specifically to help me...but the first guy was looking at me expectantly, not realizing that the other guy had come to help me. Dilemma. 

I make two decisions. Decision number one: go to the second cashier as he was there just for me. 

Decision number two: make light of the unreasonable amount of time it took me to pick a cash register. In reference to number two, I decide to throw my hands in the air, smile winningly, and say, with a chuckle, "Too many choices haha!" The cashiers found this slightly funny, though I'm not sure they knew what I was referring to. They probably thought I meant too many choices on the menu. 

After that fiasco, I forget what I want to order. I say, "I would like a...Zaxby's..." (which is where I was) "...house..." (I forgot the word Zalad) "..with...uh...no cucumbers." So I looked like a champion right then. And then this happened...

"Would you like a adflas;ldkfjalsdjfla;sdjflakjsdf?"

So I said, in response to the question I had expected him to ask, "Yes, a drink."

He proceeded to stare at me blankly, so I said, with my debit card pressed into my cheek nervously, "Wait, what!?"

He repeated his question, asking me if I want a drink. I responded in the affirmative, took my receipt, and walked away.

If you think this story is done, you're wrong. It gets worse.

When the workers call what I assume to be my number, I skip up to the counter to retrieve my food, trying to act like nothing awkward had happened. Upon arrival, confusion ensues. The food is in a plastic bag...but I ordered mine "for here"...but they said my number...Are those my things? I peer into the bag, trying to be covert. Are those Zaxby's sauce packets? I ordered a zalad...there shouldn't be any sauces packets...what do I do?! 

I decide that the bag is not for me, and I step back abruptly. My cashier man, let's call him David (because that was his name), says, "That's not yours." Ok, a little rude, but whatever. I wait patiently. And then, oh yes, David becomes confused and upset. Oh no, I see him thinking, I'm stupid...He then calls my number yet again, and mumbles, "Sorry, I was wrong about the first one..."

Triumph! I am not stupid and confused! I was right! That was supposed to be my bag!

I eat my Zalad in a happy, but still-slightly embarrassed, mood. Morgan and I chat and get excited about our upcoming shopping adventure. 

But when I get back in my car, I notice my fly is down. My fly was down the whole time. Hooray for me. And hooray for Morgan for not telling me. Thanks.

Kate: crestfallen.