Usually I love love love cooking and doing kitchen things, but here I have been too lazy and disorganized to make food.

And usually in my own country I never ever eat KFC, but here I seem to eat it on a semi-regular basis.

Clearly I am a changed woman.

I kind of dreaded ordering because the cashier seemed very Arab, and I just *knew* the language barrier thing would be an issue. But also I *knew* after a long at work I wasn’t about to cook. So I boldly strode to the counter and prepared to do a little bit of speaking and a whole lot of pointing and gesture usage.

The dude spoke perfect English. Wallah, there was no communication barrier. And of course, in typical Kendra fashion, I was over friendly. I gazed around to double check there was no mutawa, “Maaashaaaallaaaahhh your English is very, very good!”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yesssss! You speak so clearly.”

“I wanted to get my masters, but they told me my English wasn’t good enough so…”

“WHAT?! That is crazy. Give me something to write on.”

I didn’t even have to tell him… he already knew what I was going to do.

After we talked about where we were from, (clearly I am from usa and he really was Saudi). Kind of neat as an American to see a Saudi working in an American company started in my neighbor state of Kentucky in Saudi Arabia. He asked me if I was married, and asked about my religion. Everyone here is exceptionally happy to hear that I reverted to Islam.  It’s a nice change.

I literally watched his heart skip a beat as he got some paper and a pen. “Try this program,” as I was writing “And here is my phone number and email address, just in case you have any further questions.” Then, just to push the envelope farther, I looked him square in the eyes, so he knows that I mean business.

I love to be bold with the male employees here because they cower a little bit and it sustains my black hole heart.

His eyes shifted quickly back and forth as he placed my number in his pocket. “Oh, well.. uhhhh” he stammered, probably trying to gather everything that had just happened, “here is my my business card. I’m Samy.”

My food had been ready for 3 minutes when this encounter happened. All he had to do was hand it to me.

I don’t even know why I wanted to give him my number, but one thing is for sure. I’m not going to text first.

Salaam,

KC