What Chick-Fil-A Workers Actually Mean When They Say “My Pleasure.”
My pleasure:
I’m at the tail-end of an eight-hour shift, and I still have three assignments due by midnight.
My pleasure:
Homosexuality is an egregious sin, and all must repent.
My pleasure:
I took this job because I know my ex loves Chick-Fil-A, and I plan to lure her back with chicken.
My pleasure:
I’m transferring to the MSC Panda Express. They will treat me better.
My pleasure:
Who orders two meals and a milkshake just for themself?
— Mrs. Dabfire
Mrs. Dabfire is a woman of many talents: certified fish camp mom, unofficial MSC greeter, and full-time vape cloud. A theater major turned amateur intramural pickleball referee, Dabfire made a name for herself when she substituted for her younger cousin at New Student Conference and somehow left with three Breakaway T-shirts, a minor in Agricultural Leadership, and a job offer at Layne’s Chicken Fingers. Known for her emotional range (from giggling to sobbing during the Aggie War Hymn), she’s never seen without a pearl necklace, platform Crocs, and a Juul named “Ol’ Sarge.” She’s not your mom – she’s everybody’s mom. Just don’t ask what’s in her Owala.