Have you Eaten at El Pollo Loco in the Last Two Weeks?

It’s 2019. I started off the beginning of the year working as an EMT on an ambulance, then I switched to working at a COVID testing site in an area that is primarily Spanish speaking, where I learned to walk someone through how to self-administer the test in broken Spanish.

“Pon lo en su nariz… mas arriba…si… mas arriba. Diez segundos circulos grandez…buen trabajo. Otro lado por favor.”

It was hot, and we were in masks and gowns, gloves and N95s. I worked with the first EMT I was ever partners with, really funny guy, and his buddy who is also hilarious. I met a nursing student who was hired just for that site and didn’t work on the ambulance with us. She was hilarious too. We had a great time. 

One day, the guys got called off because they were short-staffed on the rig and my nursing student friend had school.

That day, I realized it was a shitty job.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware of how sweaty I was. All, day. I also realized it feels like it takes more energy to breathe in through the mask. I could feel the sores on my nose and cheek bones that weren’t new but didn’t bother me for more than a few minutes a day before today. Now, I felt them relentlessly. The pressure, the stinging. 

A few cars laugh at my attempts at Spanish, we laugh together, and that lightens the mood and makes me feel better briefly.

There are a few white guys who work there who don’t speak Spanish, and refuse to learn the few sentences required to keep the lines moving.

“Dude, 80% of the cars are Spanish speaking only.” I say, trying to convince them it’s worthwhile.

“They never asked if I speak Spanish when I got asked to do this job. It’s not a job requirement. I don’t have to do it.”

“Do you see that by not, the line gets held up and the few people who do speak Spanish here, who have more skills than us, have to do more work and don’t get paid anymore for it?” I plead.

“That’s not my problem,” they insist.

“I’ll teach you, it’s two lines. It’s fun and it will make this so much easier on all of us.”

They shake their heads, and look at their phones, as they wave Spanish-speaking cars into other lines.

“As long as you know you’re the asshole, you spoiled little fucks.” I say in my head and walk back to my line, feeling my nasty, greasy face under my mask and face shield. 

I take another job setting up a temporary medical site at a fairgrounds in a nearby county whose hospitals are overrun and nursing homes are shutting down. Some days are just working the COVID testing site there. Same setup. Same thing. 

There’s a nurse from Germany who says inappropriate things to the females, but we all hear it, and have fun calling him on it and teasing him. He’s like a movie character, completely oblivious to how he sounds.

I jog up to the group with a pack of water bottles and he says, “It would have been nicer to watch you jog up if you were in leggings.”

We’re here with the National Guard and we’re all in EMS attire, cargo pants, polo shirts.

I look at him wide-eyed and entertained, “Dude, you can't say that to people here. Do you understand? You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

He won’t make eye contact with me, “Well, I’m just saying,” he says in a tone that makes it clear he thinks I'm making a big deal out of nothing.

“Don’t comment on what chicks are wearing or should be wearing, OK?” another EMT says.

He shrugs, “OK, it’s not a problem where I’m from.”

The guys lose their shit, laughing, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you. You’re lucky they don’t seem to have an HR set up here yet.”

One of the guys is an EMT from about a 10-hour drive away who is thinking about going to PA school.  Another is a firefighter. They have brilliant, childish humor. 

One goes to take a piss in the porta-potty and the others move the washing station against the door so he has to struggle to get out. It’s so dumb, and so, so funny.

We have to do stupid things to keep us entertained. It doesn’t take much though, we’ve all been under so much stress, long hours, changing protocols - that any stupid attempt at a joke is so welcomed it will get a roar of laughter. 

The days are monotonous otherwise, asking each person in the car the same questions, walking them through the same tests. Sanitizing, labeling, instructing them on when they will receive their results, how to access them online, or how to set up text alerts.”

“You’ll receive your results in one to two days.”

“Recibe su resultados en una a dos dias.”

There are lots of Spanish speakers here, too.

We take turns being the one to ask the questions, to hand the swab over and hold the test tube, and to write. The firefighter goes through his list of questions while I’m holding out the test tube for them to put the swab in. He finishes the list of questions about symptoms and exposures, and then asks where they went out to eat last.

I look at him confused and he doesn’t respond. I don’t remember what the person in the car said.

“What the fuck?” we ask when the car drives off.

“I don’t know, I’m bored,” he says.

We then take turns adding on one random question at the end.

We have to ask about any nausea or vomiting. Then we add, “And any explosive diarrhea?”

One guy says, “Yes, but that’s normal for me.” He’s got an open tall can in his cup holder.

I might feel bad about concerning people for unrelated symptoms, but two days later diarrhea was added to our questionnaire.

One guy finishes asking about the symptoms and then adds, “And have you eaten at El Pollo Loco in the last two weeks?”

At this I can’t keep a straight face so I just walk away, unable to hold it together.

I walk far enough away so the car can’t see me laughing but I can still hear. The guy says, yes.

My coworker asks what he ordered. The guy says a chicken burrito. This has gone too far for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find it funny.

My coworker says, “OK, good choice, you're good to go.”

My stomach hurts now from laughing and we decide to change the game because this one could easily get out of hand, we decide, as we imagine news articles accusing restaurants of somehow spreading COVID through number sevens.

Our new game is to go get the German guy whenever we have a male in the car and say, “Hey, there’s a woman in leggings in that car, you want to take this one?” and see how many times he eagerly says yes.

It takes him four times to get that we’re messing with him.

These are the things that make life tolerable. That makes hard things manageable. Each stupid joke a stepping stone through the lava.

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Review

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This piece is hilarious, insightful, and deeply human. It perfectly balances humor with quiet frustration, showing how shared struggle and camaraderie make difficult jobs tolerable. The public saw healthcare workers as heroes, but the reality was much more mundane, frustrating, and absurd.

The physical discomfort of PPE, the exhaustion of long hours, and the frustration of inefficient systems all build up in the background. The fact that the narrator only realizes how miserable the job is when they’re alone suggests how much companionship and shared struggle matter in difficult jobs.

The El Pollo Loco game, the pants joke with the German nurse, and the porta-potty prank aren’t just silly—they’re necessary. These moments highlight how emergency responders and healthcare workers build resilience through laughter, making grueling, repetitive, and emotionally draining work manageable.

The inappropriate comments from the German nurse show how professional environments shift under stress—some people become more abrasive, more careless, or more unfiltered. Despite the unprofessional moments, the workers still do their jobs well—they maintain structure while bending the rules just enough to keep themselves sane.

Even in crisis, people will still be people. Some will refuse to do the bare minimum (like learning Spanish), some will say stupid or inappropriate things, and some will create moments of joy just to keep going. The title is perfect because it captures the randomness of humor in crisis. It leaves the reader with a smile, but also a deeper appreciation for the unseen emotional labor of healthcare workers.