Just keepin' it real

So just a few minutes ago, I went over to our local Chic-fil-a (also commonly known as the Single Greatest Fast Food restaurant EVER) to get dinner, since the Missus is under the weather. Business for the evening rush really hadn't picked up yet, so I walked straight up to the counter to place my order.

The girl who was taking my order had a co-worker, maybe 17 years old, jabbering in her ear. Apparently, they'd been having a conversation about another co-worker before I showed up. Instead of doing the smart thing and shutting up, the kid kept talking.

"See, one of my homeboys was there, so I know she was keepin' it real, you know what I'm sayin'?"

I looked at him quizzically for a second, then motioned him over. Being that customer service truly does come first at the local Chic-fil-a, even in a situation that could be to the employee's physical detriment, he walked over the counter in front of me.

"You don't have homeboys," I said, leaning over the counter and speaking softly. "And I don't know what you're saying, she doesn't know what you're saying and, really, you don't know what you're saying."

For you see, the 17-year-old in question had a small problem that made it a little tough to believe he could keep it real: he was the whitest kid you've ever seen.

How white? White enough that I felt soul within me when I looked at him.

The kid had super blonde hair, blue eyes, and a complexion so pale that his cheeks really were red. This kid was so nordic that Hitler would have popped a Woodrow at the sight of him.

So here he was, the postcard for Der Fuhrer's Master Race, talking like he had Master's Degree in Thug Life. Uh, no.

To his eternal credit, he stiffened up, said "Yes, sir," and went in the back ignoring the stifled giggles of his co-workers. Whether he busted out his Kanye CD to figure out how to respond to such criticism is unknown.

Dinner, by the way, was quite good. CFA kept it real, you know what I'm sayin'?