Does Boycotting Huge Companies Really Work?

I read an article today about how a Chick-fil-A restaurant in the UK will be shutting down after its 6 months lease is up.  It's their very first location there and I'm unsure of if there will be others any time soon.

The restaurant opened in early October 2019 and has faced heat from an LGBTQ rights group calling out CFA for its previous financial support of anti-LGBTQ groups like The Fellowship of Christian Athletes and the Paul Anderson Youth Home.  The pressure was great enough to get the Oracle Shopping Center to not renew its lease with CFA.

CFA faces scrutiny on a regular basis from LGBTQ groups for their previous actions yet they are still the 3rd largest U.S. restaurant when it comes to sales.  They're just behind Starbucks and McDonald's.

Will it hurt a company that has earned billions or will it hurt those who lose their jobs when the company closes?

CFA gets over 20,000 inquires per year from franchise candidates.  They open 70-80 new restaurants annually.  Those restaurants bring jobs and tax money to the communities they service.

How people handle discrimination is completely their prerogative as long as it's legal.  I'm just playing devil's advocate here and I have two questions because I want to know how people feel about this:

Who does the boycott really hurt?  The huge company or its employees?

Are you anti-LGBTQ if you patronize or work at Chick-fil-A?

#T2Q's Toss Up Thursday, 1/2/14 (PHOTO)

Great Customer Service from @AnotherBrokenEgg

People are always quick to bad mouth someone when they receive horrible service.  However, I'm going to do the opposite this time and talk about the great service that I received from a breakfast/lunch spot called "Another Broken Egg."

Well, it wasn't so much of the service as it was the courtesy.  I'm there with my girlfriend's kids and the youngest one is 11.  She orders a mug of hot chocolate and it comes out with the whipped cream on top looking pretty tasty!  Well, she's 11 and she doesn't realize that it's probably not a good idea to keep a mug of hot chocolate on the very edge of the table.  She accidentally bumps it and it goes crashing down to the floor.  Luckily, nothing broke and it didn't spill on anyone.  It just made a huge mess.

Because she's 11, she's terrified that she's going to be chastised by the employees of Another Broken Egg, but the complete opposite happened.  A server ran to our table, kneeled down beside her and asked, "Are you okay?"

I'm 41 years old and I've been in plenty of restaurants where something is spilled and most of the time, people don't say anything.  They just roll their eyes and grab a mop.  This guy's main concern was her well-being and everyone seemed to really appreciate that.  He asked her not to move and said that he would get someone to clean it immediately.  The second guy shows up with a mop and the first thing he does is ask her, "are you okay?"

By this time, I'm stunned.  Two people who know what customer service really means?  He cleans up the mess and by the time he finishes and walks off, the first guy returns with a brand new hot chocolate that looks just as good as the first one.

The 11 year old was relieved that she was not in trouble and also appreciative of the fact that everyone was so nice to her and realized that it was simply an accident.  I also felt appreciation for how well they treated her.  I wish I could remember the gentlemen's names, but it was over a week ago and I've forgotten.  But the ABE was located in Ridgeland, MS in The Renaissance.

I think this goes to show that Another Broken Egg is serious about their hiring process.  They hire people who actually care about their customers.  That is so rare these days and I applaud them for it.  Very few places do that now.  Chick-Fil-A has legendary customer service and if ABE continues doing what they're doing, then they will be synonymous with great service as well!

When is the last time you've gotten great customer service?

Enough, Republicans! You Lost!

There, there, Mittens, it will be okay.

I can't believe the amount of stupidity that has flooded my Google Reader over the past week or so. President Obama gets re-elected and just when I thought people couldn't lose their minds even more, I was proven wrong.

Enough, Republicans! You lost!

Can't you take a butt-whipping like an adult?  I haven't seen this many people griping since Dave Chappelle walked away from his genius of a show and millions of dollars.

For those who read my blog regularly, you know that I despise both political parties.  I think that they both find different ways to get my money and pocket it.  Having said that, I still go out and vote for the lesser of two evils, for lack of a better phrase.  Sure, I could vote for a third party, but we all know that they never come close to winning.  Maybe if they got included in debates... oh, wait!  They aren't invited because they can't afford it.

Thanks to media campaign headquarters news stations like MSNBC and FOX News, people have completely lost their marbles.  These stations get people so riled up that they feel that a person's vote is a personal attack against them some how.  Example: this nut who ran over her husband with an SUV because he didn't vote (for Mittens).  You read that correctly.  Not a woman who got cheated on and got upset, but someone who was so distraught over Obama winning, that she took it out on her husband for abstaining from the polls.

Or, this guy killed himself over Obama's re-election.  He tooks some pills and left a note that said, "Do not revive!  F---, Obama!"  Now that's the true definition of a sore loser.  Why did he feel that it wasn't even worth living rather than dealing with Obama for four more years?

Although these stories should have been surprising... they weren't. Because people do extreme things to make a point these days. And they get no more extreme than ending your own life. Now, I've been mad in my life before, but ending my own life over someone getting a job has never crossed my mind.  Here's another example of a sore loser on Squatlo's page.

Now, I will admit that this goes both ways. I know some people who were so proud of Obama getting re-elected that you would have thought he was a relative. Sore winners, if that's a word. The people who wore their "Re-Elect Obama" t-shirt to work, the day after the election, knowing that it was going to start an argument.

Newsflash: Obama doesn't know you. 

But, I digress. Face it, Republicans: you put up a decent fight and lost. Admit it. Louisiana Republican and 2016 candidate, Bobby Jindal, admitted it and so can you.  Go back to the drawing board and maybe work on actually having a plan in 2016.  With Jindal and Chris Christie, at least your candidates will be a lot more interesting.

Don't you think too many everyday people are taking this re-election too personally?

Do You Not Know Where You Are?

The Mrs. and I went to a restaurant tonight and despite viewing poor customer service and business mismanagement, we came across an very unusual sighting.

Well, let me rephrase: a very unusual sighting for August in Mississippi.

Behold! A sweater in August! (Click to zoom)

Dude, do you not know where you are? This is Mississippi! The humidity is always 95%+ and the temps are scorching even in the shade! The temperature at the time this photo was taken was roughly 92 degrees, so luckily for Mr. Sweater, it wasn't one of those 115 degree heat index days.

Still, to bust out in that sweater, with a shirt underneath, almost seems suicidal. His "pay date," as I heard someone refer to the lady with him, was wearing a skirt and was a complete contrast to Mr. Sweater.

I only wish I had the guts to ask the guy what he was thinking as I exited the restaurant.

Ew.

Okay, so I'm at my favorite local Mexican restaurant on yesterday. I love going to El Cazadores because the food is good and it helps me brush up on my Spanish. I took three years of Spanish and I was pretty good at one time, but now I'm reduced to reading the closed caption on Univision. To hear it spoken requires a lot of concentration on my part now which usually results in me replying, "Que?"

Anyhoo. I decided after arriving to step to the restroom to wash my hands. I excused myself from the table and told The Mrs. I'd return shortly. I get to the restroom and there are three people inside: one is a teen in one of the stalls, an employee is washing his hands and the other is a guy using the urinal. The restroom is so small, that I'd prefer to refer to it as a "restcloset."

So, after the employee finished washing his hands, I stepped to the sink. The man, who was done at the urinal, was waiting on me to finish washing my hands. The teen comes out of the stall and never even looked towards the sink. He bolted straight to the door as the guy and I stood in disbelief.

What is it with people who use the restroom and do not wash their hands? That is one of the nastiest things a person can do if you ask me. Just because your "particulars" are yours doesn't mean that they are clean. Besides that, you touched the door coming in, the stall door and the toilet handle yet you're germ-free?

So, of course, once I was done washing my hands, I left the restcloset and proceeded to walk to my table. As I'm walking to my table, my eyes are darting back and forth trying to locate Teen (raised by a) Wolf. Then I see him with his hands wrist-deep into a bowl of chips. His only concern at the time wasn't his filthy hands, but locating the salsa in which to dip his newly contaminated chips.

To quote Nicki Minaj: "Ew."

That's the only word that came to my mind. Did his family know that his hands were just a few minutes removed from his genitals and the handle he used to flush the toilet? If so, would they have cared? After all, they could all be a family of Neanderthals.

I don't know what goes through a person's mind when they avoid the simplest of tasks at the risk of being offensive. If you don't care about the germs you ingest yourself, then at least care about the people around you who may come in contact with you with a handshake. If I'm offending you, then good. Because it's about time the favor is returned to those too nasty to understand that washing your hands after visiting a restroom is expected, not optional.

C'mon, lady! Use then wash.

Would You Go to Jail for a Hamburger?

Would you go to jail for a hamburger? I almost did. I know, I know. You have a confused look on your face, right? Does he love hamburgers that much that he'd do a stint in jail for it? Nah, it's not what you think. Let me explain how it all went down...

(deep breath)

I'm working for a General Motors company back around '91. They're a factory that produces parts for GM vehicles. It's my 2nd summer working with them, but unlike like last summer, I'm stuck on the overnight shift. I'm working 1030 PM - 7 AM and I absolutely hate it. What makes it so bad is that we only get 30 minutes for lunch. I guess it's management's way of making sure we don't have enough time to actually get some sleep. I can only imagine that an hour of sleep at 330 AM would not lend to much production afterwards.

Since we only get the 30 minute lunch, me and the guys usually bring our lunches from home. The only restaurant near us was a Waffle House and their cook with the Jheri curl and trench coat creeped us out. Yes, dude was a cook and he wore a trench coat. Weird, right? But, there was a Krystal located roughly 10-12 minutes away. For those unfamiliar with Krystal, it's the South's version of White Castle.

But, like I said, it's a 10 - 12 minute trip one way to get there. With only 30 minutes for lunch, we'd spend 20 - 24 minutes on the road with only 6 - 10 minutes left to order our food. Eating wasn't a concern since you can easily "scarf down" a few Krystal burgers while in transit.

Well, our 3rd night of the summer, four of the five of us didn't take the time to bring lunch. We were struggling with the decision to go to Waffle House and pray that the cook wouldn't pull out a saw-offed "shotty" and kill everyone or just going to the vending machine. At that time, one guy whose name I forget, so I'll call him Dale (in honor of Earnhardt, Sr.), came up with a brilliant idea. "Fellas, I can get us to Krystal," he started. "I'm not eating Doritos or waffles tonight."

"How are you going to do it?" another guy asked.

"Just come on," he said turning towards the punch clock waiting on 330 AM on the dot, "I can get us there."

Of course, the four of us are intrigued on how he's going to manage to drive us to Krystal and back in 30 minutes. We follow him to the parking lot and this dude leads us to a blue 1990 Geo Metro. "How are you going to get us to Krystal and back in this (bleeping) thing?" one guy asked.

"Man, just get in, we need every second!" Dale yelled.

Within a couple of minutes, we're down the windy road leading from the parking lot and onto Highway 80 rolling five-deep in a freakin' Metro. Dale has to be doing 85-90 mph on a four lane highway with a speed limit of 55. We're scared to death of being late from lunch, but we manage to get to Krystal at 337 AM! I'm amazed. Not necessarily for how easily we got to Krystal, but for the fact that I just rode in a Metro that topped 85 mph.

We get our order in roughly eight minutes and we're back in the car and on the road at 347 AM heading back to work. Dale tears down the highway once again with not another set of headlights in sight. We arrive back to work at 355 AM with full bellies and nothing left but colas to finish off.

(Laughing) "Man, I can't believe you drove like that," one guy started. "You were wide open!"

Now, as a 20-something at the time, I wasn't a least bit concerned about the rate of speed we were going. 20-something males are invincible, right? Not! But, they are stupid.

After the successful run, we spent the next two weeks going to Krystal every single work night. The closest we came to being late was 358 AM. Call it Divine Intervention or just dumb luck, but one Tuesday, we congregated around the punch clock waiting on 330 AM. We're not in a rush this particular night because our manager decided to reward us with an extra 15 minutes for lunch each night this week for being so productive. Dale tells us that his mom had to borrow his car, so one of us would have to drive.

"I'll drive" a guy named Rick said.

Rick had a 1989 Hyundai Excel and we all piled into it. As we get midway on Highway 80, we notice blue lights ahead. "Aw, snap," Rick said. "Road block."

Normally, at this point of our trip to Krystal, Dale comes over this hill rolling around 70 mph. This is normally the stretch of the highway where we can pretty much determine if any cops may be in the area. Needless to say, we're relieved that this isn't one of those nights.

We pull up to the road block and the Clinton Police Officer asks to see Rick's driver's license. "How's it going, officer?" Rick asked squinting at the flashlight in his eyes.

"It's alright, I guess," the policeman starts. "We're out here tonight trying to run down some idiot in a blue car who speeds through here like a fool every night."

The car went silent. Dale is sitting in the middle of the back seat in between me and another guy. Rick, noticing the uncomfortable silence, speaks up, "Oh, re-re-really? W-W-What kind of car?"

The office replied after passing back Rick's license, "I'm unsure. An off-duty officer saw him two nights in a row while dropping his wife off at work. Said he had to be doing at least 100 mph."

Again, the car goes "Tell-Tale Heart" with a creepy silence that seems to scream guilt. I'm racking my brain trying to remember ever seeing another car on the road during our "qualifying laps" to Krystal. "Man, that's messed up, officer," Rick says.

"Have a good night," says the officer as he taps the car with his flashlight and waves us on.

We drove 40 mph the rest of the way to Krystal. Had Dale been driving that night during our normal 30 minute lunches, there's no doubt that he probably would have been arrested for a reckless driving charge and we all would have been out of a job and possibly at the police station with him. In fact, even if he would have been doing the speed limit in his car that night, he still would have probably gotten in some sort of trouble just from his car being recognized.

That next night, a new tradition was started: lunches at the Waffle House.

The Best Ever!

Have you ever had anything this good? I recall driving two or there hours to see a woman as a youth. It seemed to be worth it to me. But, have you ever waited hours... for a hamburger?





I lost count some where around 87 cars in line in that video. This hamburger must be the best ever! If you would have shown me this video without any captions, I would have thought that it was Black Friday at Best Buy and they were giving away the entire Star Wars series on Blu Ray along with an iPad 2 in exchange for four can goods. I've never seen a line this long for any restaurant.

They opened their first In-N-Out Burger location in Texas in the Dallas suburb of Allen. In-N-Out is big on the West Coast and it's nice to see certain iconic restaurants spread love across the country.

One lady was so happy over the opening of the location, that she was brought to tears.



If the burgers are this freakin' good, then I need to load up the Regal and jet over to Allen, TX right now! Bringing people to tears? Is the burger made with unicorn meat or something magical? The next time I visit my brother in Dallas, I'm going to ask him to roll over to In-N-Out and give the burger a try. If it's better than the Hut's Hamburger I had in Austin a few years back, then they may be onto something. Mooner Johnson can probably testify to Hut's. I think he's from Austin.

But, if the line is that long when we arrive, then we're just going to hit a Burger King and call it a day!

Readers, have you tried this magic meat and if so, is it that good?

Peep My Own Private Idaho: The Real Blogger Shore's Amazing Undercover Idol (weekend recap)

Karma, Baby!

I'm at lunch today and as I'm going into a restaurant named Broad Street, I see a couple pull up in an older foreign car (maybe a Honda or Hyundai). I really didn't pay them any mind as they pulled into a handicap parking space. What got my attention, before I got inside, was when the lady who was driving stepped out of her vehicle only to stop when the passenger asked, "Are you really going to park here?"

"We'll only be a couple of minutes," she replied.

Now, that was an indication to me that they didn't have the proper credentials to park in a handicap parking spot. I continued inside and thought nothing of it. I've seen situations like this on that NBC investigative show, "What Would You Do?", but in 2010, inserting yourself into other people's business can get you shot. So, I decided to do like most people on the show and minded my own business.

Once inside, I ordered a spicy pork loin chipotle wrap and sat at a table near the window. Shortly after my food arrived, I noticed a cop car passing through the parking lot. It didn't mean much to me when I saw him, so I just continued to eat.

10 minutes later, as I walk out to return to my car, who do I see getting a ticket for parking in the handicap spot? You guessed it! Dumb and Dumber are standing outside of the car while "Officer Friendly" writes them up.



I started to think to myself,"Did the restaurant get their order mixed up and that's why they're still here? It's been 20-25 minutes, so they should have been gone by now."

I continue to walk by with a huge grin on my face only hoping to make eye contact when I heard the passenger reveal the reason they were still parked there:

He looked at the lady and said,"Thanks to you, we now have to pay Pop-A-Lock and the City of Jackson!"

LOL! She had locked the keys in the car! No wonder they happened to still be in the parking spot when the policeman rolled through!

That's karma, baby!

What Do You Mean "You're Out?"

Ok, so I'm looking for an evening meal since The Mrs. and I had a late lunch. I go to a local restaurant not too far from my house and grab a seat. The server comes by and asks me what I want to drink. I ask for iced tea and she quickly replies, "I'm sorry, we're out."

"What do you mean 'you're out'?" I inquire while looking at my watch.

It's 8:15 PM and the place closes at 9 PM. Now, granted, I'm the only person in the place not sitting at the bar, so it's safe to say I'm the only one asking for tea. But, still, it's 45 minutes until close and your response to me is "you're out"?

"Yes, sir. We're out. We do have Coke products." she replied.

Now, since I've worked in a restaurant before, I know that it's nothing to go to the back and brew some fresh tea. Yeah, it seems like a waste to brew a new urn for one person, but given that iced tea is one of the biggest price mark-ups in restaurants, I don't see the big deal.

I was a bit frustrated, so I chose to go elsewhere since iced tea with my meal, to me, is like morning coffee to half of the world.

Another incident was with a recent trip to another restaurant in the town north of me. Now, I knew based on my experience and their reputation that they tend to be slackers, but it was convenient to go this day. I choose to go inside since I could probably hatch and raise chickens during the time it takes to get served in their drive-thru.

"Here or to go?" the lady asks.

"Wow." I think to myself. "Not even a 'welcome to (insert name)' or anything."

It's 830 PM and they close at 9 PM, so I know I'm pushing my luck in getting what I want. "I'll take a two piece, mild, please?"

"We're out of mild. All we have are spicy thighs and legs."

Well, that would be great if I were ordering women, but I'm ordering chicken and I don't prefer those particular pieces. "What do you mean you're out? What time do you all close?"



"In 30 minutes, but we've been out for 20 minutes now."

Do you see a theme here? Places that say they close at one time, truly close an hour prior to that time. That's bad management. I realize that no one wants to get stuck at work when it's time to leave, but if you're scheduled to work until 9 PM, then do it. Don't stop at 8:30 PM and start putting everything up. You do that after you close, not before.

Needless to say, I don't frequent these places much any more. They'll probably never miss my presence, but in the long run, it will hurt them. Mainly because I've complained about both places to my friends and co-workers. Also, toss in the fact that I review restaurants regularly on Yelp and Urbanspoon.com.

It just shows the mentality of some people. They do just enough to get by. Not just in crappy service, but life in general. They do just enough in their relationships, just enough in parenting and just enough in being respectful.

Baby, I'm A Star!

My writing skills have finally paid off. Well, not finally. It did land me a brief stint as a sportswriter for my local newspaper a decade ago. Aside from that, I guess I've had a bit of a drought.

Well, with the newly-found urge to blog, I'm back in the writing game. I submitted a restaurant review back in July for a contest sponsored by the Jackson Convention & Visitors Bureau and lo and behold, three months later, I freakin' won. Like Annah, I'm approaching "famosity" status!

I was interviewed and had a brief photo session and it's all on their website. In the words of Prince: "Baby, I'm a star!"

To see my review, just click the moving ad on their site that says, "Want Free Food?"

Dinner for four to Julep. It's one of the more reputable restaurants in Jackson and was once rated Top 10 in the nation by the USA Today for their unique version of fried chicken.

Now my only dilemma is: who do I take with me and The Mrs.?