As I sip on my Jimmy Johns soda, I have no reason to be unhappy. It’s the first day of school, and the new semester is as joyous as ever. Directly in front of me lies an eight-inch sub, a bag of BBQ-flavored “Jimmy chips” and a chocolate cookie.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with this meal. On any other day, this combo might even be a winner.
But today was supposed to be a Chick-fil-A day.
Rewind 30 minutes. The morning is just like any other — classes have wrapped up for the day and my stomach has started its usual afternoon growling.
Before I embark on the treacherous walk back to my apartment, only one thing remains.
Lunch.
As you already know, lunch lines in the Idaho Commons can be an equally treacherous experience. This day is no exception.
I begrudgingly wander toward the back of the line, and begin the waiting game. It would be worth it — or so I had every reason to believe.
This particular Chick-fil-A Express has fewer available lunch options, but I’ve come to terms with this. There’s still a dozen or so people in front of me, but I have no reason to browse the menu.
One spicy chicken sandwich meal. Oh, and a lemonade of course.
I’ve eaten here far too many times over the past few years, and this recitation is burned into my brain on an almost molecular level. It’s as clear as my own name.
But I was about to experience the biggest shock of my life, because my eyes would soon glance over an empty lemonade dispenser.
Make no mistake, this falls under the category of tragedy — albeit a minute one which typically occurs only in the rarest of times.
This time, things would be different. Things would be irreparable. A refreshing night of sleep and another day of classes wouldn’t fix this problem. It would only escalate the matter, as I would again find out the next day. And the next.
And for that matter, every single day since. Which is now seven, because I’ve been counting.
Each day has felt like an emotional stab to the heart. But these cuts weren’t from a knife — they were from a straw.
Maybe I’m eating lunch at the wrong time, but I’ve triedto visit in half-hour increments.
Maybe I’m just jaded, and I need to get over my fascination with the sugary, packaged yellow liquid they used to dump in by the gallon. It’s really nothing special, anyway.
Maybe I need to move on to to the Coca-Cola freestyle machine. Oh wait, it’s always out of ice.
Sometimes a new year signals a new beginning. We often hear about how change is good, and how it’s our responsibility to embrace this change.
Chick-fil-A obviously didn’t get the memo. Maybe it was lost in the mail.
This not-so-lovable chicken stand has continued to come under hot fire, in part due to the company’s vocal stances and charitable donations to anti-LGBTQ groups.
While the gravity of these situations may be drastically different, it’s 2019. In my mind at least, Chick-fil-A now has another permanent mark on their record.
Who knows? Maybe they just forgot to order enough lemonade. Maybe it’s a simple misunderstanding. You could even say this is an overreaction.
But students, lend me your ears — it’s time to rise up. I haven’t actually purchased a meal since, and I don’t plan on it any time soon (even though I lovingly sneak a glance at the empty machine as I walk by every day).
When life doesn’t give you lemons, please at least consider giving me my lemonade.
Max Rothenberg can be reached at [email protected]