A Message for the Long John Silver’s Employee Who Gave Me Shrimp

I don’t know about you, lady, but the sign clearly showed the number 10 value meal containing chicken, not shrimp.

So, color me confused when, upon opening my bag of goodies, I discovered a basket full of deep fried, u-shaped, little critters. These were not the deep fried, lowercase L shaped, big bastards that I had craved since they randomly popped in my head during a seering meditation session in class.

Don’t you understand that I don’t eat seafood? If I had wanted seafood, then I wouldn’t have said, “Can I get a number 10 and a large Diet Pepsi. Oh, and with an extra piece of chicken.” Perhaps I didn’t emphasize the word “chicken” enough, because, then, you surely wouldn’t have dumped a handful of sea creature in my bag.

Since I didn’t emphasize enough, then it’s already clearly my fault to begin with. Clearly. Let’s add on to my transgression by stating that I should have known to give the speaker attached to the menu my life’s story in regards to bog dwellers when you introduced yourself with the words, “Would you like to order a Shrimp Explosion Meal tonight?”

You couldn’t have known that when I was 8, I went to Red Lobster for the first time and had a life changing experience. During this trip, I thought I’d be kickass and order crab legs for the first time. At this point in my young life, my only seafood experience was of the Gorton’s Fisherman variety. I loved my flounder in stick form, so who’s to say I wouldn’t love it in leg form? It’s basically the same shape, right?

I was intrigued when my entree arrived with pliers, because what 8 year old doesn’t like to crush things? I dug in my excitement, tearing apart the just boiled to death crustacean. But, before I could take that first juicy, butter-dipped bite, beginning a life-long love affair with the lung-less, I noticed something I would learn later in life to be a tendon. My brother picked it up and began to move the leg by the tendon, like it was a marionnette.

After quickly puking in the bathroom, I decided hence forth that I would never eat seafood again. And you know what, Assistant Night Manager at the Ridge Road Long John Silver’s? I haven’t. Nothing with gills or scales has entered my gullet in twenty years.

So, now that I’ve offered this information, you can understand my supreme disappointment over your rejection of my desire to eat some flightless bird. Sure, your hush puppies and french fries were very delicious, and let’s be honest, I don’t really need to be eating full-sized deep fried meals right now. Buck Fifty has slowly become Buck Sixty these days, so maybe you were doing me a favor by switching out my choice of meat.

Man, I should have known better than to jump down your throat like that. You didn’t become Assitant Night Manager by not knowing your clientele. You can read minds like a fast food Amazing Kreskin.

Wow, I’ve sunk to a new low here. I’ve already insulted you by not speaking clearly, and then I forget to introduce myself with a tale of woe, and now I’ve insulted your business know-how. I apologize. You win, you always do. Please forgive me while I dig out the shrimp I dumped in the trash earlier. I will eat them, cold as ice, as my penance. This is one shame spiral I may never climb out of. Sigh.

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I am also ashamed to know that I was mad at a company that has ads like this one. Asians love seafood! It’s the new Pokemon!!! Gotta have it!!!


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