BYO Tongs

Whole Foods Brentwood
7:45pm, Monday, January 4, 2010

There is an absurdly long line at the prepared foods counter and I am finally handed the sure-to-be-horrible piece of chicken I intend to cut up into my reheated concoction of macaroni and cheese and frozen broccoli. I decide that it would be tasty to also add some of those canned jalapeno slices but Whole Foods does not appear to carry this item. So I go to the produce section... just to take a look at a fresh jalapeno and see if it's something I would consider cooking. It is not.

And then I see her. Mid 50s with smooth dark hair and pasty pale skin. This woman is eating something on a stick. Free samples? I ask myself. I look around and see the domed plastic sample platter full of oranges. But there are no sticks involved. I look back and this woman and I realize that she is eating her orange slice while still holding it in the serving tongs.

Completely horrified, I inch closer and closer just in case she plans to put the tongs back in the tray. I am half way between the jalapenos and the perpetrator when she takes it one step further and the tongs actually make contact with the inside of her mouth! Is this the trylight zone? Since when does a complimentary sample mean you are free to lick the serving utensil?

She removes the tongs from her mouth and begins to look toward the serving tray. At this point I notice a produce-section worker with what has to be the same look on his face as my own. He hesitantly moves forward and then stops once or twice, as I do, not quite sure how to handle the woman who is now actually reaching to place the soiled tongs back on the tray. He sees me, he looks at her, I move forward.

I WILL stop her if I have to. If I am unable to stop her, I will NOT feel bad explaining to her that what she has just done is not acceptable behavior.

In a heroic effort, the produce-section worker calls out to the woman, "Here, put them here." She looks at the man and back and the tray, reaching once more to place them back into the pile of orange slices. He calls to her again, "No, please, I'll take those, put them here." She unwillingly steps closer to the man and he points to a box on his cart where she should place the tongs. She cooperates and then turns around coming face to face with me and my flared nostrils. She walks away and the produce-section worker and I exchange a look of disbelief, disgust, and relief. He shakes his head, I roll my eyes, saying, "Disgusting." Then I ask him about the jalapenos before going home to heat my horrible, dry chicken which I could not bear to add to my jalapenoless broccoli macaroni and cheese.