IHOP - International House of Prisoners

So we went to pick up my car from the spa this evening. It had the works....shampoo, wax, Armor-all massage....everything. We thought we would grab some "breakfast for dinner" while we were out. The sweetest little waitress....quiet, timid, self-conscious.....a real sweety.

Bryce grew restless and weary of his pancakes and started squawking and standing up in his high chair. When the waitress came and asked if we needed anything, I said, "I think he would like a tour of your kitchen."

She didn't hesitate a minute. "No. I don't think he wants to go back there. It's scary."

"Oh yeah? Crazy back there?"

"No. Really. It's scary..... I mean.... Prison scary."

(Keep in mind we were 3/4 done with our meal.)

"Should we be afraid to be eating this?", I asked in all seriousness.

"Nah....our boss is WAY worse than them. They wouldn't dare do anything to your food."

She left us staring at each other....in fear.

Just then...an extremely large black man with orange contacts came out from the back - wearing his dingy white chefs jacket...giving us a good "lookin' over". He looked like one of the scary Shawshank redemption inmates (the TBS version, of course).

I quickly had to decide:
1. Do I purge?
2. Do I pray?
3. Do I persevere through the fear?

The culmination of THIS and a few other recent events got me thinking as I drove home. The verdict was passed.

Eating out is not good.

Ever.

The other day I got Bryce hotcakes at McDonalds.
Got them home and took them out - only to find the one on the bottom was flattened with a shoe print pattern on it.

And then there are the signs in restaurant bathrooms with "reminders" for employees to wash their hands. I recently saw one where management had written the word "PLEASE" above the reminder. It was almost as if someone was pleading with them. Who needs to be reminded with a stinkin' SIGN after they have just finished wiping themselves?? WHO??? Oh. Just the people preparing our food.

I have had sandwiches made at Subway by a chain smoker. I go to take a bite only to find that the nicotine stench permeated the plastic gloves and soaked into my bread.

I took Karah INSIDE Arby's recently. Had an epiphany. If ANY of the workers invited me back to "their place" for dinner...I would politely decline and then run like hell. Why do I feel "safe" letting them touch my food at a restaurant? One guy had tatts up to his elbows...that resumed on his neck. The guy on fry duty had major facial hair growth and looked like he hadn't washed his uniform in 4 double shifts. The lady shaving the "roast beef" suffered from a bad case of meth mouth and yelled a profanity when the cashier messed up the order. Come to find out - she was the manager.

Drive Thru's should be renamed, "Denial Thru's"....reserved for those who don't care to see "what" is preparing their food...those who would rather stay in their "happy place" of imagining they are all sweet, clean cut 16 year olds....fresh out of the bath tub....freshly brushed teeth, rubber gloves...preparing each item with a smile.

Forget nutritional information - on the menu they should have pics of the kitchen employees....their latest infections, bathroom habits, criminal records, etc. Full disclosure.

I think I am cured.
No more.
Bleck!!!!!!!!!