Sarah and I walked into a Subway a few nights ago and observed the sole employee rolling up a very wet, salty, disgusting floor mat while on the phone. The employee’s call ended with a few foreign words and the sound of sucked teeth. She then walked around behind the counter and put the phone away.
I observed the employee very carefully as she had just been handling the rubber mats. She made it to the sink, but not to the soap. Her hands darted under the running water as if she was washing sand off her fingertips. No soap, no amount of time, just a quick flick under the tap. A pair of gloves were handled, and instead of looking at them to be careful not to contaminate them, she rubbed her hands all over the surface that was about to touch my unmade sandwich.
“Whart kind of surb would you lirke?” the foreign lady asked me.
“Actually… I’ve changed my mind, we’re going grocery shopping instead.”
We saved a few bucks and didn’t get the shits from Subway in Kildonan Crossing that night.
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