Grey V.
Yelp
Let's talk lunch.
Nestled inside the comforts of a small off-brand gas station, you'll find this lovely little franchise. I happen to be working in the area for a few days and thought I would stop in to try their food. I would be lying if I didn't include my deepest regret in doing so.
Day one: I stop in for a quick hot sammy. I see their menu is extensive the lovely young woman behind the counter yells out to me from four feet away. She welcomes me, asks me how I am, yadda yadda yadda. Another gorgeous young woman exits the kitchen stage right and asks me if I would like a slice. I pick out a sandwich which is followed by a thousand questions of exactly what I want on it right when 'Rick' enters this lovely scene. We'll call him Rick as I don't know his actual name, it's probably Richard, or something short for Dick.
Rick immediately begins shouting orders at the girls explaining everything they are doing is wrong. The lovely woman ringing me out with a smile explains she bought into the franchise because she loves the food. Rick continues barking orderings and criticizing.
Just as I am handing my card to the lovely woman Rick pushes her aside and says 'MOVE'. Outloud I say 'that was rude'. She politely smiles, his eyes meet mine, and his roll. I wait five minutes while he cashes out a group of construction workers then finally begin my fifteen minute wait for the most decent sub of my life. Honestly, nothing to write home about.
However, I would say the entertainment is far worth the drive out to Chili. The entire time I am eating, our friend Rick is yelling at the lovely women about how to box up pizza. Mind you, one of them is an owner of this franchise, I'm assuming he is as well. They don't put up a fight but instead politely smile while he rants about the cost of paper plates and pizza sleeves only stepping away from them to mingle among the 6 pizza parlor tables in the lobby to continue bitching about the plates to the patrons.
The following day when I stopped in to try their pizza, El Jefé Rick could be heard talking about some girl with a stellar rack and wicked back while I enjoyed some random flavor of pie I've literally never heard of.
The food is decent, which is sad because gas station pizza deserves more than the bad name our pal Rick gives it. Truthfully the place would be bearable if say Rick was not the appetizer sold with every entree, or perhaps if I couldn't see or hear him. It's truly a shame because the wonderful women who work their are absolutely fantastic and more than willing to please. I tried two things on the menu, the buffalo chicken sub and some odd flavor of pizza because it was fresh. I'd honestly rather eat gas station sushi while listening to modern jazz than stop into this joint again.
