I went in to our lovely neighborhood Wal-Mart this morning to get breakfast, which was an orange and a banana.
The lady before me had chicken laid on the counter, and when the cashier scanned it, I could see the juice still on the counter, and then on the scanner.
I HAD FRUIT TO EAT.
YOU HAVE TO WEIGH FRUIT.
I thought, "Surely she'll give it a quick spray before she tries to check me out. Folks, SHE WIPED IT OFF WITH HER HAND.
The hand, I might add, that she was going to grab my fruit with. She just smeared the chicken juice all over the place, and I almost threw up.
So I'm standing there, facing a quandary. Do I hand over my fruit, watch her grab it in her nasty Salmonella hand, scan it on the Salmonella scanner, and then put it in a plastic bag to wallow in it's Salmonella-ness? Or do I say something, which I think is pretty douchey of me?
We were at an impasse. We stared at each other. A tumbleweed rolled by. A train whistled in the background. I was contemplating just how long food poisoning would take to get over, and how much weight I'd lose in the process, and she was wondering what the hell was taking so long.
"Ma'am, can you disinfect that scanner before you put my breakfast on it?"
"OH! Sure I can! Sorry about that."
The counter was wiped, she entered my fruit, I paid up, and walked out of the store feeling pretty good about how I'd avoided a terrible illness. It wasn't until I had eaten most of my banana that I realized...
...she'd never washed her hand.
Bananas and oranges have peels though, so it's okay...right?
Also, Erin? You'll be glad to know I didn't get the plastic bag. I opted to carry my fruit out with my hands and no bag at all. I'm going green, even if it's with food poisoning.
Lord, beer me immunity.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
A Record Of Events...Just In Case.
I'm a husband, father, son, brother, and friend. I teach English and Literature to the youth of today. I love Jesus and my mother, and I'll gladly introduce you to both. I love photography and writing. Duke basketball keeps me occupied for half the year, and hating Chapel Hill keeps me busy the other half. As you can tell from the title of my blog, I like stories. I'm a big guy with a big voice, trying desperately to be heard by someone before The Lord takes me home. Let's be best friends.