Chicken Minis & Murphy’s Law

[my least philosophical post to date]

Before I unpack this idea, allow me to tell a little back story.

For most of my life I’ve heard people say “Well, that’s just Murphy’s Law for you,” or some other phrase that means the same thing. When I was little, I remember wondering who Murphy was & why everyone blamed him when things didn’t work out. I remember kinda feeling sorry for the guy.

It wasn’t until middle school that I asked a teacher what the phrase meant. She had planned a really cool lesson for us in the car on the way to school; a lesson that she swore was so much better than the one she’d planned in advance. Unless you are a teacher, you won’t understand the gravity of what an awesome feeling that is…just trust me when I say it’s one of the absolute best feelings ever. So anyway, in her excitement she hastily loaded the instructions into the copier, which ended up jamming and creating a hot mess. The handouts that did print were single-sided when they were supposed to be double, and stapled in two of the four corners (if any former students of mine are reading this, now you know how early I was introduced to my current nemesis: the copier). How on earth the machine allowed for two corners to be stapled is beyond me. Anyway, she rushed back into the classroom, flustered and irritated. She tossed the scraggly papers on her desk (there were probably less than 15 papers…the poor lady had 150 students) and slumped into her chair, exasperated. We were all staring at her, waiting for whatever happened next. She said:

“Of course. Murphy’s Law at its freaking finest.”

After we got over the thrill of our teacher saying an offshoot of the F word, we went back to the business of listening to her tell us that we were going to have to stick with the original, boring plan since the Xerox machine hated her guts. It was at this point in my 12 year old life that I realized I no longer pitied Murphy. Whoever he was, wherever he was, he was now on my bad list. I realized that his rules, whatever they were, made bad things happen to good people like my teacher, who was just trying to create something awesome for us to do. I did a quick rewind-flashback of all the times I’d heard the phrase, all the times it was spoken by frustrated victims, typically people I really cared about. I had a vague idea of what Murphy’s Law was, but after the bell rang in that 7^th grade English class, I hung back & asked my teacher just to be sure. Here’s what she told me:

The secret to remembering what Murphy’s Law means is in realizing that “if anything can go wrong -- it will.”

                 [Ok first off, I have to acknowledge that this is a completely negative
                             way to look at life. However, that isn't the point of this post,
                                 so stay tuned for more on that at a later date.]

I remember wondering how the heck people were supposed to know that. And where did it come from, anyway? It’s an easily applicable saying, but why is Murphy’s Law being used when people don’t know who the guy was or what he did? Since middle school, I’ve come up with my own way of relating to his rules.

I think a great culturally relevant example of this law can be found in Chick-Fil-A’s hours of operation. I call it The Chicken Mini Theory. I like it better than Murphy’s Law because most of the people that use the phrase “Murphy’s Law” don’t realize that it was initially coined during a rocket-sled experiment for the US Air Force that went wrong (thanks, Wikipedia!!).  The Chicken Mini Theory, however, is right there in the definition. Chicken minis. Enough said.

As we all know, the beloved fast food chain is closed on Sundays. And wouldn’t you know, that is the day that I am always, always hungry for chicken minis. I’m not sure what it is about Sunday mornings, but I can honestly tell you that I can’t remember a Sunday where I’ve woken up NOT craving those deliciously battered nuggets. Here’s a peek at the well-practiced dance I do on the seventh day of almost every week:

wake up, crave minis, start putting shoes on to go get said minis, realize halfway through shoelace on left shoe that it’s Sunday, cry a little on the inside, mentally sort through other breakfast options half-heartedly ‘cause once you’ve craved and imagined consuming such a delicious breakfast it’s hard to top it, take right shoe off, unlace left shoelace, dejectedly head to the kitchen.

Why do I always do this? Why, on all other SIX days of the week, do I not crave chicken minis? How come my body is programmed to crave them on the one day they aren’t available? Because. As our friend Murphy tells us, If anything can go wrong it will. Plus, we always want what we can’t have. (Post to come on that topic soon. It will be much more serious than fast food, I promise.)

  

[For the record, I have nothing against Chick-Fil-A’s hours & everything against my inconvenient cravings of their food. Please hear me on that. I truly respect that Chick-Fil-A observes Sundays as a day of rest. I actually think it’s pretty cool of the company to operate like that. Honor the Lord’s day, rest up, we’ll see y’all on Monday. Word.]

The Chicken Mini Theory can be easily applied to a multitude of examples having nothing to do with the minis themselves, much like how Murphy’s Law is never applied to rocket-sled experiments. The difference between the two is that, while few of us can relate to Murphy’s engineering mishap, most of us can relate to the unfortunate wrong of craving food that is unattainable. Running late for an important meeting & you get stuck in awful traffic? Chicken Mini Theory. Going on a first date and you wake up the morning of with a huge pimple on your face? Chicken Mini Theory. Trying to sneak up behind someone and end up tripping and knocking them over? Chicken Mini Theory.

The possibilities are endless.