ruling the roost

I love the way the Aussies keep the rules and avoid conflict while doing it.  Sometimes, however, it does make me laugh!  There is a franchise here called Red Rooster.  It's a take away joint for everything roast chickenish.  You can drive thru' or walk in and dine.  You can order chicken pieces, burgers or the whole darn bird!

On a recent Sunday morning our friends at church decided that it was a good idea to congregate at our house for lunch.  We agreed and I decided to rescue the empty pantry by making my first-ever stop at Red Rooster for roast chickens.

To Russell's delight we decided to do the Drive-thru and dutifully stopped when we got to the window and requested:  "Four roast chickens, please!"

To our utter amazement our very reasonable request (given that this is exclusively a roast chicken vendor on a Sunday lunch) was met with disapproval.  The sales lady informed us that each customer was only allowed to purchase two chickens unless a pre order arrangement had been made a few hours before!  An argument ensued where I politely pointed out that she was selling chickens and I was buying them.  What was the problem?  I could go down to my local IGA (read Spar) and clear out the hot chicken oven and nobody would bat an eye.  Here she was telling me she didn't want my fifty bucks.  Insane.  Recession?  What recession?  Rules are rules and theirs is only two chickens per car so that everyone can have lunch!

I backed down momentarily, cleared my throat and started again:  "Two roast chickens, please".  To which she gaily responded, "that will be $24.95, please."  I paid.  We left.  I drove thru and parked in the adjoining car park.

I told Russell to wait in the car while I just went to buy the chickens.  He looked on in bewilderment as I marched through the front door of the very same Red Rooster and greeted the staff with a smile at the counter.  "Two roast chickens, please,"  I said.  They looked at one another in total disbelief and nudged each other forward.  Eventually they called the supervisor from the back.  She tentatively approached the cash register, looking me up and down.  I could tell she was deciding whether to take me on or not.  I spoke clearly and concisely and made my plea known:  "Two roast chickens, please."

"That will be $24.95," she said.  I took them and left.

Fair dinkum!