It all started when one of my workmates casually mentioned that a lot of places in Thailand deliver. To understand my surprise and happiness, you have to understand two things at this point:
- I come from Barbados, where very few places deliver.
- I was pretty homesick. I would have killed for some crappy, familiar, ‘western’ fast food. Naturally, I was all smiles and questions.
“What do you mean they deliver?”
“Like, to my house?”
“Who delivers exactly? McDonalds? KFC? Pizza?”
“What if I’m not exactly sure of my address?”
“Do they speak english?”
“Is there a minimum amount you have to order?”
“What’s their number?”
… The list goes on.
They knew about half of the information I wanted, but I did get the number for KFC, which was the Holy Grail.
I went home and tried the number. It didn’t work. I proceeded to use every variation of that number that I thought would work, still no luck. Then I did the next thing anyone growing up in the twenty-first century would do, use the internet. When I finally found the english version of their website, I found out that they do indeed deliver.
Another, piece of information I should probably mention is that I didn’t actually know the address of the house I was staying at. It was close enough to work that I could just do most things from there, therefore I never had to confuse myself trying to figure out how to say the address.
I went through the laborious process of creating a profile. Then the fun began. Picking all the yummy, yummy things I was going to order. I figured if I am going to make them come all the way out there, the least I could do is order enough stuff to last me a minimum of two days. Chicken, fries, sandwiches, the works. Everything I had missed out on in the last two months, delivered right to my door. Then I placed the order with what I could guess my address was. All online, I didn’t even have to pretend to speak Thai or beg them to speak english. It was perfect.
However, it was all for naught. I waited thirty minutes prepping myself for the delivery guy. I took a shower, cleaned, even put on my best clothes. I wanted to make a good impression on my soon-to-be best friend. Then I got a call from a strange number, granted all numbers were strange to me at this point, since I didn’t really know anyone. It was KFC. They didn’t really speak english and I really didn’t speak Thai, but the gist of what I understood is they didn’t understand the address and they weren’t willing to deliver without an exact location. Heartbreaking. I couldn’t argue with them since I didn’t know the language but, I wasn’t going to stop there.
I went to bed hungry that night, plotting how I was going get KFC in my stomach. I decided the best course of action was to take the employee van down to the mall an hour away, eat to my heart’s content then get a taxi back home. This plan was a little more achievable since I didn’t really have to talk to anyone over the phone. It also worked like a dream. I had to travel two hours but ultimately I got my KFC, and it was even tastier than I remembered.
The moral of this story is, don’t let anyone stand in the way of your fast food. It may be fast food but that doesn’t mean it is always easy. Never, EVER, let anything get in the way of you getting the chicken that you deserve. Also, if you happen to be living in a foreign country, learn your address.