KFC Taco Bell makes me feel ashamed

Dear KFC Taco Bell,

This week I took my daughters to your humble location on Ocean Avenue in San Francisco. In terms of ambiance, it very much fit in with its neighbors: a laundromat and 7-11 convenience store. All three seemed to try their best to shuffle people in and out. 

I remember the days before KFC and Taco Bell "synergized," so to speak. While it was unlikely that your eventual union was a reflection of an ever-present desire for both fried chicken and tacos, your cohabitation made it possible to finally think it, offering newfound possibilities in a burgeoning area of "food mash-ups." This was mind-blowing...in a good way  because there was, suddenly, a third option, a blend of Southern and South of the Border. Let's call it SXSB.

But over the years, your sheen faded. Your offerings seemed dull and even depressing. The food was over-promised and under-delivered. Sometimes, it was just plain absurd. Or maybe I outgrew you. 

Last week, however, I saw a commercial for your Smoky Chipotle fried chicken, and you suddenly seemed somewhat attractive to me again. So imagine how I felt when my kids asked to go to Taco Bell. I thought, Here's my opportunity! The magic of the combined restaurants made it possible. I felt the thrill of a love affair that had the power to burn hot once more. 

Unfortunately, you didn't deliver. The chicken was actually quite good. The rest only reminded me of the reasons that I had fallen out of love with you.

To start, the atmosphere inside was bleak. There was nothing to "warm up the crowd," so to speak. Nothing to anticipate. There was no positive, compelling experience like there is, say, in every In-N-Out, where the wait to get your food only builds up your confidence that your burger will live up to the promise. You see the burgers being made and delivered, even if you're sitting in the drive-thru. Burgers are exposed in all their glory as they get delivered to the people ahead of you. When you wait, you bear witness and believe. 

Not at a KFC Taco Bell. I was handed my order to go even though I planned to eat in. This left me and my two kids shamefully eating out of a plastic bag.

What's worse, my order came with a side of mashed potatoes. I wanted a salad, and since what I ordered was pictured with one, I didn't bother to specify. You, KFC Taco Bell, didn't bother to ask. And I just accepted the mistake.

Then I unwrapped my daughters' burritos. Consider the reveal. Practically every item from Taco Bell is delivered like a Christmas present, concealed in its own wrapper. That means there's an expectant moment leading to a surprise. Imagine my surprise when I discovered these:

The spork is included for scale.

Simply put: there is nothing "double" about these two Cheesy Double Beef Burritos. In fact, these look nothing like the picture in your menu. I'm not even sure they should be called "burritos." They were misshapen and small. Very misshapen and very small. And you made me hand them to my daughters for dinner. 

Much like the wait at In-N-Out, those burritos made me believe. Unfortunately, they made me believe that you just don't care about me, and that makes me not want to care about you. No wonder I didn't want to tell you about the mashed potatoes. 

To add insult to injury, we ate our disappointment out of a bag as I stared at my receipt.

It's okay that you misspelled my name, but it doesn't hide the fact that this little slip of paper says it all. 

You should know that receipts are an important (although often neglected) part of the experience. People clutch them as they wait, read them in boredom as they eat, and even save them should they write off the meal. They are touchpoints. They are opportunities to tell your story.

And in your case, it did. It reinforced a story that began when I entered and ended as I cleaned up after myself and left in silence. It was a story about a transaction, not a relationship. I am literally an order number to you, even if you asked for (and then butchered) my name as if you were Starbucks. 

I'll return again, but my expectations will be low.

-joanie (a.k.a. joney)