Yet how can I justify eating fast food when what’s hidden in those kitchens is undoubtedly just as bad as what’s visible to the public? No disrespect to the workers, but I once went through a drive thru window where a teenage boy with pustular acne handed me the sack of food and I had to think “nice thoughts” to get the vision out of my head before eating. I, too, know the feeling of being embarrassed by bad skin at times, but is greeting the public at the pick-up window really the best way to utilize that worker?
Hygiene can make or break my appetite. Any place that has to remind people to wash their hands is hiring someone that has no place in any kitchen. I’m so careful in my home kitchen that I’m sure I’d pass one of those UV germ tests with flying colors. And doesn’t everyone replace the spoon used to stir raw meat before plating food and wash their hands before unloading a dishwasher? Maybe I’d rather not know the answer. (Tip of the day: Laundered clothes still have E. coli on them so wash your hands after loading them into the dryer. You’re welcome.)
Peter, on the other hand, loves buffets and keeps begging his grandmother to take him there again. She loves food, almost as much as she hates to waste it. We still laugh about how she scarfed down my hospital food as I was being discharged after giving birth. I think she's still hungry from a childhood where she was never offered seconds. Here’s what Peter wrote in school with the clear use of persuasive iteration to make his case.