mm mm chicken

I remember this one time when my mother and I went to the grocery store to buy chicken to cook a church lunch for 200 people. My father said he would wait in the car because no one would sell us that much chicken for the fifty dollars my mother was carrying on her. Without even looking at the price, my mother walked straight up to the counter and asked for some large quantity of chicken. Then, she proceeded to tell the guy behind the counter that she was going to pay him no more than fifty dollars. The butcher behind the counter laughed as he and the manager made their way over. Overcome by embarrassment for my mother, I only remember snippits of what happened next: I recall hearing a lot of yelling back and forth, a lot of bargaining, occasional logical reasoning, and the words “do it for the church.” The next thing I remember was walking to the car where my father was waiting, and opening the trunk so that the butcher and manager could bring out all the free chicken my mother had just acquired.