For some unknown reason, Chris loves this place. Loves it!
I, on the other hand, do not. I’ve never been to one and NOT felt like I was living my worst life. No matter what the location, it always smells like that bleachy-dirty dishes-gross restaurant smell that you only really understand after waitressing. (I know you know.)
Nonetheless, last night I found myself in a dirty booth in a trashy suburban strip mall Chili’s with a 22 oz Sam’s Summer in front of me, contemplating the Quesadilla Explosion salad. (?).
We had a waitress in training who was actually my worst nightmare. “Hi I’m Katie and I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight!!!! Can I start you off with an el Presidente margarita or a strawberry lemonade?!?!?” (no). “Ok well what about some spinach artichoke dip or boneless buffalo wings while you look at the menu??!?!” (no.) (Dessert got even worse.) Upselling like a(n annoying) champ without missing a line from her script. I wanted to die.
I went because we were in chain restaurant land while visiting a Walmart to buy moving/apartment related things and Chris has not shut up about Chili’s for 3 years so I figured I’d take one for the team.
Don’t get me wrong- I am not above a lil Eat ‘n Park/IHOP/PF Chang’s/Uno’s action every now and again. And it’s not like I refrained from eating 86,649 chips, before during and after I said my food was gross and I was going to combust from fullness.
But I just don’t understand the appeal.