So the subject is “I Quit”.
When I was in my second year of university, I worked in a KFC to make some bucks. I only worked twice a week, and I also got to have as much food as I could eat on my break.

All the food I could eat turned out to be usually 3 to 4 family buckets of chicken that found its way to the industrial fridge so that I could take it home and share it with my housemates. It was a pretty sweet deal and I was relatively happy.

Then a new manager was appointed, and was not all that cool. He leched on the 16 year old girls, stole money, didn’t authorise overtime when it was done (“oh must be a payroll error!”), chronically understaffed the entire place to lower costs (“I am just sweating my resources here pal.” He cut my hours without asking me so he could give them to the under 18s, and introduced the rule where you had to pay for your food on your break.

I complained and he said that if I didn’t like it, then I had to lump it. The weasel. This is a man that brought his own bottle of coke to drink on his shifts as he couldn’t stand to drink the pepsi from the KFC taps. What type of monster does that?

Anyway, I am a pretty happy-go-lucky bloke so I gritted my teeth, took the money, and accepted these changes.

Then he gave me 2 weeks notice because I hadn’t fucking scrubbed the floor properly. I was glad at the time because then I couldn’t be bothered to work in his fowl regime.

So I planned my final night. I won’t document the sleepless revenge filled nights that led up to it, only what happened.

Picture the scene.

10pm on a Saturday night in Exeter, two hours after my last shift starts.

£9.95 spent on an ad in the local paper that promised a free meal to the first 200 people that came through the door after 10pm.

Me switching off all the deep fat fryers (that take an hour and a half to get to temperature).

‘Killing in the name’ by Rage against the machine (last 2 minutes of the song) repeated and burnt onto a custom CD playing on the branch stereo (glued shut) at 95% volume.

Me, and 4 other Colonel Sanders refugees, vaulting the counter, past the baying drunken chicken hounds brandishing copies of the local rag, with our middle fingers up.

Finally, dickless clown losing it as the place gets mobbed.

Then I went for a maccy ds.

EPILOGUE.

Its probably cooler in my own mind than what actually happened but what the hell.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 22 May 2008, 15:48, 7 replies)

"Fowl regime"
click
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Thu 22 May 2008, 16:14, closed)

You get a click, that sounds epic!

( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Thu 22 May 2008, 20:15, closed)

Good work that man
*click*
( Fathter Puddytat Kill Kill dat widdle boid is mine on, Thu 22 May 2008, 20:56, closed)

Fowl regime
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
(I grew it myself, Sat 24 May 2008, 12:35, closed)

ooo
when was this in exeter.. i don't remember it happening
(Neomancer last looked smug on, Sun 25 May 2008, 0:05, closed)

^
This was at the KFC on Sidwell Street (just by the cinema) around 1999.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Sun 25 May 2008, 16:09, closed)

I worked in that KFC for all of 2 weeks in 2002 when the chicken-fuckers didn't pay me for a week i worked there.

No revenge stories i just walked out leaving them high and dry.
(chili_kitten Cheese, peas and honey bees, Wed 28 May 2008, 13:04, closed)