Today at work I answered the phone, and ended up taking an order for a dog's dinner. Or maybe it was a dog's dinners.Whatever. I catered dinner for a dog. Excuse me while I wipe my ass with my college degree.
Anyway. The order was for twenty-four fried bone-in chicken thighs. For a dog or dogs.
I put the customer on hold for a moment to ask my co-workers if I was being pranked. Apparently not. This is a fairly new, yet already well-beloved customer who has been calling in 3-4 times a week with the same order for her dog.
I asked her name and number. I confirmed that she wanted twenty-four thighs, bone-in, to be picked up at noon tomorrow.
"And make sure they are cooked good!"
I was silent for a moment, wondering if her dog had complained about the presentation, or maybe the lack of garnish. She continued, "Make sure they are done! The last ones were pink!" Click! went the phone.
I am not a dog person, but I have never ever heard of feeding dogs bone-in chicken on purpose, much less breaded, sodium-laden, deep-fried chicken. However, I guess there is a tiny chance she is deboning the thighs, since she thought the last ones were underdone.
Sidenote: co-workers told me when Doggy Mama came in to complain, the manager had to do a show-and-tell to demonstrate that thigh meat is actually a slightly different color than breast meat.
The other thing that boggles my mind is that two-dozen chicken thighs three-to-four times per week cost her between $75 to $100 dollars, and I am guessing (praying) that the fried chicken is not the primary source of food for her dog.
Was this enough for my day? No, it was not. Later a woman requested I shave two pounds of turkey breast for her cats.
Fuck it. I don't care anymore, as long as her cats and the first whack-a-doo's dog do not ever speak to my cat.
