Bonjour! It is I, Weetabix!
I have ze urge to affect ze French accent today!
Moi thinks it is to offset ze Mulletification of moi’s brain at yon Journey concert.
Last night, I stopped by a local dairy/deli to pick up some pizzas and ice cream upon request from Esteban, who, since he works at home 90% of the time, does not see fit to get in the car just to run errands and relies instead for me to run around town hither and yon, picking up food, dropping off videos and getting the car’s oil changed. Um, where was I? Oh yes.
As I’m waiting at the cash register for the world’s slowest cashier to place my ice cream and two pizzas into a bag (I kid you not, this took at least three minutes. She unpacked and packed the bag twice then I somehow ended up with two bags but I left, just to get the hell out of there), I watched a girl build a sandwich for a customer who had wandered off to peruse the rest of the store.
She put on the clear lunch lady plastic gloves. Then she placed her hand on top of the flat sub bun and started to cut. Then, as the blade neared one of her fingers, she gasped and pulled her hand back. She recovered, began slicing again and then winced. She lifted up her hand and I could see that her glove was starting to fill up with blood. She made a face and then put the bleeding hand BACK on the bun to continue cutting!
I spoke up. ‘Did you just cut yourself?’ I asked her in a concerned voice, very aptly hiding my disgust.
She looked around guiltily. She knew that I had seen. ‘Um, yes.’
‘Well, maybe you need to get yourself a band-aid?’ I said in my most caring voice, restraining myself from adding ‘you dumb ass health violation? Do you think this guy wants his sub to be covered in your tard juice? Freak!’
She looked pissed at my suggestion of getting a band-aid for her gushing digit, but she reluctantly turned around and went Somewhere Else, leaving the sub bun there on the sandwich prep board, leaving the poor guy waiting to get his sub.
Slowest Cashier Girl then sneers to her co-worker about how stupid the Bloody Glove woman was. No one made a move to throw away the contaminated sub bun. No one made a move to clean off the sandwich assembly line (which was nary six inches from the sandwich food stuff). No one made a move to help the guy who had the misfortune of getting Edward Scissorhands for a Sandwich Barista.
I did not wait to see it play out’ to see if they would continue to use the same knife or continue to make that guy’s sandwich with the same bun. Instead I fled in terror. Plus, god forgive me, I was very hungry and wanted to eat my pizza, which undoubtedly contained someone’s severed toe or similar Bio-hazard. I don’t care. Them’s good eatins.
Carissa just stopped by my cubicle to see what I was wearing to the concert (for the record, khaki shorts and a white t-shirt’. Classy and yet still indistinct among the hicks). She was worried that maybe I had purchased a new outfit for the concert. Why? It’s not like it’s ActualPerry–I doubt that PseudoPerry deserves a new outfit.
I like whole doughnuts not doughnut holes.
Overheard:
Five-year-old girl: (angry voice) Girls don’t START’ But they FINISH!
