KFC: A Case Study in Lost Potential and Lukewarm Leadership

As someone who has spent a career leading people and writing about customer service, I try hard to give businesses and their leaders the benefit of the doubt before I criticize them publicly. I’ve been in those shoes—unjustly crucified at times—so I understand the weight of leadership. That’s why I usually hold back until I’ve seen a pattern, not just a one-off misstep.

Tonight, I’ve reached that point. And while the KFC in Alexandria, Kentucky, is the tipping point, this isn't just about one location.

Growing up, KFC was a family treat. I can still remember those big red-and-white buckets of chicken, and how we’d turn the lids into flying saucers after dinner. At community events, I’d quietly hope for a chicken breast from the Original Recipe tray. That nostalgic bond is probably the only reason I keep giving KFC another chance. In fact, not long ago I made a point to visit the original KFC location in Corbin, Kentucky—a pilgrimage, of sorts, for a brand that once stood tall in the world of fast food.

But let’s be honest—something is broken. And not just in Alexandria.

Having written extensively on customer service, I can’t help but compare KFC to Chick-fil-A. The contrast is stark. Chick-fil-A can have 20 cars wrapped around a building and still move them faster than KFC can handle two. And I say two because, frankly, I rarely see more than two cars in a KFC drive-thru.

I’ve eaten inside the Alexandria location twice in the past couple of months. On both occasions, we were the only customers. You’d think with no crowd the staff would have time to keep things clean. But you'd be wrong. The restrooms? Dirty sinks, smudged mirrors, trash on the floor. I took pictures, but out of respect, chose not to post them. We went back weeks later. Same story. This isn’t a staffing issue—it’s a leadership issue.

To be fair, the chicken still tastes good. The team was friendly. And yes, the mashed potatoes and green beans transported me back 25 years. That’s not necessarily a compliment, just it was a warm memory.

But here’s what finally drove me to write this.

When KFC originally launched their Nashville Hot Tenders, they were fantastic. The tenders were actually cooked in the spicy seasoning, giving them a distinct red color and bold flavor. Paired with a biscuit to cool your mouth down? Perfect.

So when I drove by and saw a sign that read “Nashville Hot Tenders Are Back,” I got excited—enough to change dinner plans on the spot. My wife Amy kindly obliged. When we pulled into the drive-thru entrance, there was no line, as I expected. After navigating the rain-damaged speaker system, we placed our order.

But when I opened the box, my heart sank. What I got were three regular tenders with a splash of Nashville hot sauce sloshed onto the bottom of the container. That’s it. No flavor cooked in. No red appearance. Just a few plain tenders lazily tossed with some sauce from a packet.

I called the store, hoping maybe this was a mistake—a new employee perhaps? Nope. I was informed that this is the new standard. They no longer cook the tenders in the Nashville Hot recipe. They just sauce them afterward.

Really?

Claiming “Nashville Hot Tenders are Back” in that form is like me saying I’m back in my college basketball shape. Sure, I might still lace up the same sneakers and put on the old uniform, but let’s not kid ourselves. It’s a hollow claim.

So now we’re paying $7.99 for three basic tenders with some sauce when, honestly, I could’ve gone to McDonald’s, grabbed some McNuggets and hot mustard, and spent half the price for a better experience.

I don’t say this gleefully. In fact, I feel a little sorry for the franchise. But the truth is, it’s hard to survive in a competitive world when your standards keep slipping. People will give grace, but only so many times. Eventually, poor service, lack of cleanliness, and misleading marketing catch up with you.

KFC still has a chance to turn it around. But it won’t happen with shortcut cooking, dirty restrooms, and gimmicky signage. It starts with leadership. It starts with pride in the brand.

Until then, I’ll hold onto the good memories and find new places to make them.