So the other day, my husband was behind the counter, helping a customer, when he heard a terrible retching noise coming from the back kitchen.
"What the hell is that?" he thought to himself. "Here, R, ring this guy up for me," he instructed our dedicated store manager as he walked to the back of the store.
What he discovered still haunts him today: an old man, puking in our three-basin sink.
"Sir, are you OK?" my husband asked the customer, trying not to puke himself.*
Without speaking, the old man stood up, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and walked back out the door to the lobby. And no, he did not rinse the sink out.
My husband cleaned up the mess and went back to the line to help customers. And that's when he saw it: the old man, sitting, eating his sandwich, in front of other customers, leaned over and puked AGAIN.
And then went right on eating. Now that's a dedicated customer.
*Important side story to understand how weak my husband's stomach is: About four years ago, our son, then two, sneezed. And I don't mean a sweet little "achoo" either. It was one of those ACHOO-and-now-three-feet-of-green-snot-is-hanging-out-of-my-nose-and-if-it-doesn't-get-wiped-off-soon-it's-gonna-fall-in-my-mouth kind of sneezes. We were in the car, I was driving, and we literally didn't have anything to clean it off with because I'm OCD and am constantly cleaning and throwing things away. So, I told my husband to do what any good mother was already thinking: "WIPE IT OFF WITH YOUR HAND!!"
He flinched, but he did it. My husband then gagged, turned, and puked out the passenger window. Except the window wasn't down all the way, so most of the puke landed on my husband's coat and tie he had put on that morning for church. Mind you, this all happened in the space of about 60 seconds at a red light. I'm just hoping my husband didn't get too much vomit on the van sitting next to us.
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