The day we raided Marrybrown

The last of the CA PE-I exams (foundation exams, if you will) was over. Six students stood outside the examination centre, a strange mix of frustration and relief flooding them. Relief because the exams were over, marking the end of a month long toil. Frustration because all of them were sure they would fail the exams. 

We talked for a while about how badly each of us had screwed the exam. Before we knew it, our stomachs were growling. Since no one was in the mood to go home, we decided to eat outside. As we left the school, we saw a Marrybrown outlet. What’s more, there was an “all you can eat” offer. It was a no-brainer. The six of us entered the empty outlet, and two waiters sprang into attention. They walked toward us with pamphlets. We shouted “Six all you can eats!!” to save them the effort of coming to our table. The message was relayed to the kitchen, and soon enough, our table was covered with burgers, chicken, fries and drinks. What followed can be termed a “blitzkrieg”. The plates were empty so fast that we had caught the waiters off guard. We had signalled our intent. Refill after refill came, but it seemed our hunger was insatiable. All the frustration and the anger that was in us were taken out on the food that kept coming to our table. It was like we were men possessed (probably by very, very hungry spirits).  

Soon, the situation came where the waiters started getting genuinely worried. They started shifting around uneasily, and urgent messages were relayed to the kitchen area. At one point, when we complained about the slow service (which was totally unjustified, in retrospect), a waitress came and in a choked voice, told us “Sir, please understand. It takes some time for us to prepare it. We have to give it fresh and hot.” I felt bad for her; and gave an angry glare to my friend who complained “Hmph! So much for fast food!” I gave her my best smile and told her “It’s okay. Take your time.” My complaining friend, who had caught my glare, returned a sheepish grin.  

But that was as much sympathy as the staff got. They didn’t have a moment’s respite, as our plates and glasses got empty faster than you could say “Marrybrown”. Soon, the time came when they were all cleaned out. The waitress came to us, almost trembling, and broke the news. Surprisingly, everyone stayed calm on hearing the tragedy, much to the relief of the waitress. She didn’t stay relieved long though. “There was something about all you can eat ice cream”, I commented. She sighed, defeated, and said “Yes sir, I’ll get it.” 

The all you can ice creams were the small vanilla cups you get for Rs.5 or so. They were in a small cabinet. “You may want to bring the entire cabinet here”, one of us said. The waitress considered our suggestion in all seriousness for a moment, and then decided that it wasn’t an option. If she thought that would slow us down, she was grossly mistaken. The cabinet was emptied with the same efficiency with which we had emptied the kitchen.  

At the end of it all, we sat at our table, finally content. All the frustration was gone, and we were at peace now. We laughed, joked, made plans for the next day, and of course, burped out loud. The bill came to our table, and we left a generous tip. As we left the place, I noticed that the manager was having an urgent conversation with his waiters (probably discussing if there was a possibility of keeping the outlet open till night, given that they would have to get a whole set of supplies). I know it is a cliché, but if I were to sum up our visit to Marrybrown, all I can say is “We came. We saw. We conquered.” 

Not long afterwards, as I was passing the area where the outlet was located, I saw that the Marrybrown outlet was closed. I am not suggesting anything, but then it was also interesting to note that the “all you can eat” offers that were there in many of the fast food outlets in Chennai stopped after a few months. If there were a few more cases like ours, I can’t blame them.