Twice in the same month!? WHA?!
There was a roach at work yesterday.
And I sadly don't mean the kind that makes you stare at your hands and giggle.
My bug phobia is pretty considerable...I've only just gotten enough courage to kill centipedes with a nice stomp. I used to have to stand at a distance and hairspray them.
I was busy making a salad for the only lady in a group of uppity salad-munchers to tip me when one of my co-workers steps behind me and very quietly tells me:
"A roach just crawled across the floor..."
What scared me more than the prospect of a bug crawling around behind the counter was the fact that when I looked down, it wasn't there. Now, I know that you can't jump and scream six-legged bloody murder in front of customers. Especially in front of the only one who bothered to leave you some change for a rather laborous salad. So what do you do? You sing to yourself and contain every terrified emotional fiber that just wants to break into hysterical laughter.
And then it appeared again, crawling its way up the counter. My brave co-worker swept it off and it lay writhing on its back, struggling to regain composure so it could continue to disgust and harass the human race. Salad-Lady continued to look around and smile, fantastically oblivious.
I scrambled to finish making the food as best I could without cutting off a finger and all but threw it at Salad-Lady. She thanked us and left. Then the manager came out of the back room and laid the smack down on the intruder, and the six-legged devil was nicely smeared.
Then I went to sit and breathe and let out my hysterical laughter.
BLEH.
And I sadly don't mean the kind that makes you stare at your hands and giggle.
My bug phobia is pretty considerable...I've only just gotten enough courage to kill centipedes with a nice stomp. I used to have to stand at a distance and hairspray them.
I was busy making a salad for the only lady in a group of uppity salad-munchers to tip me when one of my co-workers steps behind me and very quietly tells me:
"A roach just crawled across the floor..."
What scared me more than the prospect of a bug crawling around behind the counter was the fact that when I looked down, it wasn't there. Now, I know that you can't jump and scream six-legged bloody murder in front of customers. Especially in front of the only one who bothered to leave you some change for a rather laborous salad. So what do you do? You sing to yourself and contain every terrified emotional fiber that just wants to break into hysterical laughter.
And then it appeared again, crawling its way up the counter. My brave co-worker swept it off and it lay writhing on its back, struggling to regain composure so it could continue to disgust and harass the human race. Salad-Lady continued to look around and smile, fantastically oblivious.
I scrambled to finish making the food as best I could without cutting off a finger and all but threw it at Salad-Lady. She thanked us and left. Then the manager came out of the back room and laid the smack down on the intruder, and the six-legged devil was nicely smeared.
Then I went to sit and breathe and let out my hysterical laughter.
BLEH.