Oooooooohhhh I have to tell you Wayne and I didn’t go out very much this last couple of weeks. We’ve had a bout with the gillywhumps or the giswhizzes or whatever is going around. Our eyes have been watering and we’ve been sneezing and coughing and hacking something terrible. Neither one of us has had a fever or anything that would suggest we had a cold or the flu or anything of that sort. We haven’t even been able to go to church or to the club or even to the American Legion for one of their delicious Friday night fish, chicken, or shrimp dinners. They usually have the best dinners and the air doesn’t smell like old stale cigarette smoke since they got those new smoke suckers installed. It wouldn’t matter because we probably wouldn’t have been able to smell cigarette smoke either.

Even though I’m sure we don’t have anything contagious, food just doesn’t taste good when you’re coughing and hacking and sniffling. Which reminds me of some of the fast food restaurants Wayne and I have been in. Since I don’t really have anything to report on as far as food goes, I’m going to unload my notebook of pet peeves that I’ve been listing for just such an occasion when I didn’t get to go out or have a restaurant to report on.

I would guess number one would be: Can’t they teach the teenagers that their fingers should never go into their mouth to taste food they’ve handled? Their hands should never go anywhere near food after they’ve touched anything until after they’ve washed them. Lord knows whether they’ve washed their hands or not after going to the bathroom. I know that it’s almost impossible to wash your hands and then get out of the bathroom without touching the doorknob where all the germs are. I use a paper towel to open the door with and then I put it in the trashcan where you empty your tray. Even that shouldn’t be touched.

I guess my number two peeve is: Why don’t kids know how to make change or count out money any more? It used to be a big hassle every time we would go into a McDonalds or Burger Chef restaurant. It seemed the teenage kids behind the counter had a hard time with money and making change. Then they came out with cash registers that would tell them how much money they should give back. This made it easier for them BUT now they just take the money out of the register and say, “Here.” You have to count it yourself to see if they made a mistake. I was expected to make change and count it out to the customer when I was a girl and worked behind the ice cream counter as a ‘soda jerk’ (Really this is what they called people who made ice cream cones, milk shakes, and ice cream sodas back in the dark ages when I was a young slip of a girl earning my way through school.)

Let’s say the customer owes you $4.37 and they hand you a $10.00 bill. It’s easy to make change; just say the amount of the bill and how much they give you; “That’s four dollars and thirty-seven cents out of ten dollars. Then you put the money in their hand and say, “Four thirty-seven,” (give them three pennies), “Four forty,” (give them a dime) “Four fifty”, (give them two quarters), “Four seventy five – five dollars” (give them a five dollar bill), “And ten dollars.” There that’s easy enough. Whey don’t the managers teach the kids to do that any more?

Another thing that I don’t like is, having to stare at a pierced belly button and a pair of hip hugger jeans that are pulled down to just above the pubic hairline. Wayne enjoys it, but I think any parent that let’s their daughter out of the house looking that way should be horsewhipped. (Not really; it’s just an expression.)

Oh and can you imagine trying to eat with those awful pierced lips, cheeks, and tongues? I guess the dentists are making a fortune repairing chipped teeth and the parents have to pay for it. I don’t like looking at pierced eyebrows, ears, noses, or a pierced anything. Trying to blow your nose has got to hurt and I just know it’s got to be messy.

I’ve been seeing kids with their necks and shoulders tattooed. Why would anyone want to mutilate their body by disfiguring it with ink, or pieces of metal? Back when I was growing up we girls used to wear our dad’s white shirts outside of our rolled up jeans and we wore what we called bobby socks with the tops rolled down wide. Our shoes were either penny loafers or brown and white saddle shoes. They did come out with black and white saddle shoes but they didn’t go over very well. We normally wore our hair up in a ponytail and chewed a lot of gum. We thought we were “cool” and the “cat’s pajamas”. Ok, I never said I was raised under a rock, but what I’m saying is our parents let us go to a certain point and then they put their foot down. I’m sure if any one of us had even mentioned getting a tattoo or having anything pierced we would have been grounded for life.

Restaurant owners, you can make a difference even if the parents don’t have enough guts to say, “NO” to their rebellious kids. Don’t hire anyone who looks like a freak, dresses like a bum, or smells like something that hasn’t used soap in weeks. Now customers, you can make a difference too; don’t eat in those places that hire these people and don’t be afraid to walk out and go elsewhere. Until next time when I hope Wayne and I are both feeling better; Taa Taaa.

Mrs. Waynedale

The adventures and reviews of Mrs. Waynedale are written by a mystery author in the Waynedale area. You have to love her, eccentric, truthful, and quaint as she is. She is a champion for Seniors.

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Mrs. Waynedale

The adventures and reviews of Mrs. Waynedale are written by a mystery author in the Waynedale area. You have to love her, eccentric, truthful, and quaint as she is. She is a champion for Seniors. > Read Full Biography > More Articles Written By This Writer