I have avoided eating fast food for a while now since I realized it was killing me quickly. I love my yams, bananas, chochos, and sweet potatoes, for example.
Today, due to laziness and wutless behaviour, I decided it was time for some fast food. Suddenly, there was a bright light in my head - PIZZA.
When I arrived at the pizza place, a gentleman was conversing with the salesperson. The gentleman was not understanding the salesperson, and I could not understand her either. She was speaking in a new kind of patois. It sounded more like a code than a language. After some time, the confused gentleman seemed to have understood the new code.
The man finished his transaction, and then the salesperson looked at me as if to say, 'Yu no ready fi place yu order'. There was no greeting such as 'Good afternoon'. I ordered a small pizza. I then said to her, let me have all toppings except pork. She proceeded to tell me that she had bacon, jerk chicken, beef, and pineapple.
When I finished placing my order, she turned to me and said, "Yu numba".
"Number?" I enquired.
She replied with much gusto, "Yes yu telephone number".
I said to her, " I cannot give you my personal number." I did not ask for her number so I could not understand why she was asking me for my telephone number
She then casually said to me, "If yu no give mi yu number mi can' sell yu." She then made a right about-turn and went inside.
I went to another salesperson and queried why my personal telephone number was required when I made a cash transaction. There was a sign requiring me to show my ID when I make a purchase with a credit card, and yet that was not requested.I was getting impatient now. I told the cashier that I needed to speak to the manager, so she went to get the manager. I turned to the other customers, looking for some support. One said to me, "That is their regulation, so I had to follow it. The other customers were now getting impatient, and they said to me, "If it is in the system, then you have to give your number". I could have given an incorrect number, but I remembered the Integrity Commission. Now, I was getting impatient myself. I did not go there to look a woman and therefore we needed to exchange numbers.
The manager came out, and I told her what had transpired. She apologized, and I got my pizza without giving them my telephone number. If the salesperson were a sweet lady, I would not have a problem exchanging numbers with her.
All is well that ends well. It was time to enjoy my pizza and chicken wings. I had told them not to put any sauce on the wings, and they looked surprised. Mi say the chicken wings tasted terrible. It reminded me of when I first took my metformin medication. The chicken wings had a burnt, metallic taste.
I vowed never to go back into one of those fast food places again. I will walk with my food or reach home fast and eat natural food from the earth. I am familiar with chicken with a hint of garlic and seasoned to the bone with eskellion, thyme, ginger, and scotch bonnet pepper. Oh yes, with juice, eena di chicken bone. Dem di chicken a di fast food place is pure dry bone chicken dem sell. Dem dey bone cannot suck and chew up like how mi do it a mi yaad.
Is dem dey food dem a serve di yout dem. No wonder dem so force ripe and end up with diabetes, high cholesterol, and hypertension before dem grow di fus yeye teet. Wooooeeee! Lord, have mercy on us all.
Let me hurry up and finish this because my stomach is rumbling like there was an earthquake in it. I feel to head to somewhere fast - a place where I don't like to rest too long.
My friend, wen yu a spen yu money, mek sure dem treat yu like king or queen. A fi yu money a pay dem an a keep dem business going. Mi a go run fas' fram di fas' food place dem!
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