So I picked up this new job a few weeks ago working in the nursery at my gym just for a couple hours a week in the mornings. My shift runs right through lunchtime but not a problem, I think to myself. I’ll just bring lunch along with me. They have a microwave and a mini fridge after all. I’m sure people do it all the time! Even though there wasn’t any trace of food around. Humm...
Next day at work, everything’s is going according to plan. We get a little bit of a lul in business. Not that many kids, perfect time to break out some fettuccini in garlic cream sauce from the Mac Grill. I warm it up and give it a stir thinking how spoiled I am that my leftovers come from a nice restaurant and I didn’t have to cook. I dig in and take my first bite. Right as I’m about to swallow, little Will comes over with a river of thick green snot, oozing out both nostrils. The thickness and consistency of it is enough to make me loose my appetite mid-bite. I look away, choke down what I have (almost not making it) and grab a tissue. He’s off to play again but I know I won’t be able to look at my beautiful fettuccini alfredo until I can wipe that image from my mind. ….it’s been 2 week, and I can still see it plain as day.
Now I may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I learned my lesson enough to know that slimy stringy things for lunch aren’t going to work. So I pack a cold cut sandwich for the next day hoping I won’t run into anything unappealing that reminds me of ham on whole wheat. I didn’t. Phew! But as I’m eating, one of the little girls named Hanna asks if she can sit on my lap and read me her story. Sure I think. Whats the harm in that? …apparently her breath wasn’t within my range at the time for this little darling dear had THE most putrid smelling stench wafting out of her mouth that I have ever encountered. Like sour milk and throw up kinda mixed together. And in her moment of exuberant animation she literally spits one of the words at my face and all I can think is “IT’S ON ME!!! IT’S ON ME!” I smiled, scooped her off my lap, and as I scrubbed my face in the sink I sigh quietly to myself at the fact that if I ever have a little girl, I'll never be able to name her Hanna. The half eaten sandwich goes back in the ziplock where is stays for the rest of the day. Humm….no contact with children while eating….check.
I’m starting to see why there was no food in the fridge on my first day.
The next week, I forgo the thought of lunch altogether and think more along the lines of snacking til I get home. I search high and low for something… ANYTHING that is not wet and gooy. Cheddar Cheese fish crackers is what I decide is safe and I eat them while the kids are distracted with a movie. I focus intently on the cold hard steel of the building next door. Nothing soft or mooshy that would remind me of the 10 goopy noses I’ve already wiped today. But I’ve forgotten one more element. So easy, so obvious, the ultimate weapon at their disposal to ruin my desire for food altogether. It was in that moment when the potent certain smell of someone else’s poop came drifting into my nostrils that I gave up completely. I decided from that moment on that I would rather starve than eat anything at this place. No more planning or ideas…. because poop trumps all.
