You Stick Your Finger In, You Stick Your Finger Out

Aside: I wash my hands multiple times per day. I know this makes me a weirdo; however, I blame my mother (and my hometown) as apparently some kids were dying while I was growing up from germs that would have been easily killed had the kids washed their hands. In an attempt to encourage my brother and I to wash our hands, my mom told me this. Because of this, I consider myself just barely a functioning adult because of the number of times I feel compelled to wash my hands. In fact, my hands feel dirty right now, though the only thing I've touched since last washing my hands is my computer keyboard and mouse. The need to wash my hands must be restrained in order to write this post, if that gives you any idea of how I barely function. End of Aside.

As you know, I am dieting. And, while it may not be the best choice as far as dieting goes, I have found a couple of sandwiches at Quizno's that have a reasonable number of calories (particularly if you get a regular size without dressing, as opposed to the big-fatty-fat-fat size that I normally enjoy). In addition, there is a Quizno's very close to my place of employment, and so I tend to go over there when I'm looking for a reasonable sandwich in a reasonable amount of time. This is despite the fact that this particular store is a questionable one.

As far as some backstory on this particular location, my boss believes he got food poisoning the last time he went there, so he refuses to go back. He thought that those germs probably came from the banana peppers that sit at room temperature that any dirty-handed customer can peruse (See! My mom was right!), so I figured that I could continue to eat there so long as I avoided the afore-mentioned peppers. Additionally, my wife really hates eating at this particular location because it always seems scuzzy, in that, when she orders, the meat is always somehow soggy if not outright wet with what is (we hope) water.

Even so, my experiences have mostly been good ones. On those rare occasions that I do get soggy meat, I just order a different sandwich for a while. In this way I usually have a decent experience there.

Until today.

I walked into the restaurant already knowing what I wanted (based on calorie info carefully ascertained online), and I walked up to the sandwich maker and ordered it. She made the sandwich as I requested due to my dietary specifications. So far, so good.

However, as I got into line to pay, I noticed something that displeased me greatly, and I'm not sure of any euphemisms for this, so I'll just come out and say it: the cashier was picking his nose.

With a line of customers right in front of him.

After, apparently, not finding what he was looking for, he grabbed a napkin and went spelunking for nose goblins again (I guess I do know a euphemism after all). This time, he faced away from the customers and towards a sink. This lightened my mood a bit as, well, we are all faced with boogers on a day to day basis; how much can I judge this man for doing what we all do at some point during the day, especially if he will be able to so easily wash his hands afterwards?

In a perfect world, this man would have washed his hands.
In a perfect world, there would be no need for this blog post.

That's right, after wadding up his snot rag and throwing it away, he went back to taking the customer's money, giving him change, and BAGGING UP HIS FOOD!

Because I am an optimist, and as I was the third person in line, I hoped against all hope that he would wash his hands before my turn to pay came up.

As you may already suspect, my hopes were dashed against the rocks of snotty goodness.

While I should have spoken up, I guess I was kind of in too much of a shock to speak up for my immune system. I guess I'll let my lack of future business do the speaking for me.

Seriously folks, I'm really skeeved out over here.

If you are wondering, I did eat the sandwich (because I am not a proud man and I was very hungry), but I did so with hesitation, wondering if each bread crumb were really a bread crumb, if each speck of pepper were really a speck of pepper.

If I do die from unwashed hands, somebody please tell my mom. Though saddened by my untimely demise, I am sure she will smile a gentle smile, knowing that hand-washing got me at last.