Inspired by Rachael, my only real memory of Chick-Fil-A:
I was living in Greensboro, N.C. The downtown business district existed, but it was a small one. I worked down there as a paralegal in a tiny law office, a three-attorney shop. Julie was teaching school somewhere. She had to be at work earlier than I did, so I’d have her drop me off at the Chick-Fil-A downtown because my office wasn’t open yet and they wouldn’t let me have keys. So I’d sit in the Chick-Fil-A and drink coffee and write about music using my HP-620LX Palmtop PC. I had one of these machines because I’d been sent a review model at some point and they let me keep it. I bought a keyboard to go with it, but the plug had some contact issues so I had to buy an elaborate clamp from Home Depot in order to make the plug work. So there I was at 6:30 a.m. in the Chick-Fil-A, me with my coffee and my palmtop with a ridiculous-looking clamp to make the keyboard work, and I was writing about Matmos’ A Chance to Cut Is a Chance to Cure and actually crying a little bit listening to “For Felix (And All the Rats)”.
And that is my Chick-Fil-A story. I’ve not been in one since I left that job. Safe to say I will never enter another one.