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Britt Combs: Avoiding "restaurant rage" means eating healthy

I'll have a mega-burger, please, hold the nose candy

By Britt Combs | The McDowell News

Published: April 22, 2009

I love good food. I also love convenient food and cheap food, and when those three can be found in the same meal it's magic.
I have walked out on many a meal though, much to my wife's chagrin, although she has now come to rely on my instincts. Just as a mother knows instinctively when her child is about to climb into the toilet, I have an uncanny ability to know when a restaurant worker is putting boogers in my food.
Last week's scandalous YouTube video showing two Domino's employees serving up nose candy in sandwiches shocked millions who had been blissfully ignorant -- and also made the town of Conover famous. It was a scene right out of Orwell's "Down and Out."
My first jobs were in restaurants. I thought handling food was a sacred trust. Some of the customers were pure evil, and I thought about breaking their noses, but I never thought of tampering with their food.
Some of my co-workers, however, were scum who acted like they were doing the world a favor by showing up to work. They felt unappreciated by the rich, happy, spoiled and lazy customers.
These people wouldn't hesitate to put boogers in food. Some handled food with infected cuts on their hands. One lady always had her fingers in her mouth. One guy couldn't keep his hands out of his pants. Any time he was idle, his hand would slither down the front of his britches. He stood there with a far-away expression until an order came in.
I "accidentally" knocked a lot of plates into the floor, horrified at what I knew was on them. It didn't happen constantly, but nor was it rare. People were lucky to eat where I worked. They had an ally in the kitchen looking out for them.
So I know all about food service rage. I can sense it. My wife and I were at the drive-up window. I gave my order and the kid read it back wrong. I gave it again and he still had it wrong. There was static on the intercom, so I repeated it slowly and clearly. He read my order back correctly, but his tone of voice said I had insulted him by speaking so carefully. My booger alarm rang frantically.
When we got to the window I saw that, behind his tattoos and eyeball piercings, the boy's grin was decidedly sociopathic. "Thank you just the same," I said and hit the gas. My wife was irked at me.
"I'm hungry now," she protested.
"Hungry enough to eat a crackhead's boogers?" I retorted. "'Cause that's what's fixing to happen."
Most folks try to ignore food service rage, pretend it doesn't exist, but the fear of filth, intentional or accidental, keeps many out of restaurants. They say the folks who make hot dogs don't eat them. My restaurant experiences haunt me the same way.
One place was so rat infested the manager used to go out back each morning and shoot 40 or 50 of them on the hill. We kept a shovel by the back door to brain any rats that sneaked in.
In another place, I took it into my head to clean the ice machine. I don't think it had ever been cleaned before. The lid was always open. All of us -- waitresses, bus boys, cooks – ran our hands down in there every time we filled a glass with ice. I got the ice out and was amazed by the thick, oily black sludge of dust, dead skin and congealed hamburger grease that caked the entire inside. It was shockingly nasty.
Every profession attracts bad eggs; journalism attracts America-hating socialists, law enforcement attracts sadists, house painting attracts drunks. Among the millions of decent folks who seek restaurant work there are some truly unemployable, angry, bitter, filthy people. As with any industry, the people are the most important resource.
The people will make or beak a restaurant. I've frequented places that had great food but the service was dreadful. I wind up giving these lavish tips, 'cause I don't want to eat a booger next time I eat there. Then I resent having to tip for bad service and wind up not going back.
Many fine people work for Domino's and it is a respectable company. The booger buffet served up by two bad eggs shouldn't destroy the company, but it might; America is grossed out. My advice: Move the food handling area up front like in the sandwich shops. Install reassuringly visible security cameras in the kitchen just like in the dining room. Most importantly, fire the lowlife and hire nice people, pay them more than the competition and charge more for the food. A meal without big old long hairs in it is worth more money. And a meal without boogers in it will save me money on doctor bills.