We found ourselves at Arbys’ today for a quick lunch. I managed to gather the strange and very detailed orders of all my kids, transfer that vast knowledge to the lady at the register, and find a seat for 5 people.
I gave the littler ones THE speech. You know the one where I expect them to have good manners in a public place, to keep their voices down, to not fart if it’s going to be a loud one.
The speech was met with a loud toe-curling belch in the form of a “Yes, Mom!” from Malachi.
I think that went well.
So we sat and devoured our carnivorous lunch and just as I was going in for another bite of my crispy-chicken-bacon-and-swiss sandwich, I look up at the booth directly in front of me to see a teenage boy studiously filling out a job application while digging two-knuckles-deep into his right nostril.
We lock eyes, me with my sandwich halfway in my mouth, him with his finger up his nose. And without removing his finger, he smiles at me.
I gave a weak smile back and swallowed the bite, unchewed, that was already in my mouth. It scratched like sandpaper all the way down.
Granted, the guys gonna have good customer service skills because anyone who can smile around a finger wedged in their nostril has definitely got some skillz.
But honestly, all I could think about was the fact that next week my booger picking friend could be the guy making my sandwich.