I used to go to Atlantic City to
play the slot machines. Sometimes frequently. I might only
play for an hour or sometimes I'd stay quite a while. I
always appreciated the little moist towelettes they'd have
at the redemption desk because the money, particularly the
coins, made your hands filthy. Then one day it hit me. Money
is filthy. There's no telling where it's been and who's been
handling it. It suddenly made me self-conscious as I thought
about the many times I've gone out to eat and realized that
the same person who was handling my food was taking my
payment. This happens frequently in small establishments
where only 1 or 2 people may be working, and particularly at
New York pizza parlors. Yuk. The person who just touched my
crust is exchanging money with me. Am I supposed to eat that
now?
How do you handle that?
I guess at this point I've
become the typical germophobe. I carry anti-baterial
handwash with me everywhere. I use it as soon as I get off
the bus or subway, immediately after shaking hands with
people and after viewing the menu or using any of the
regular table items (salt, pepper, ketchup) in a restaurant.
But my pizza...if they don't have separate people handling
the pizza and taking care of the payments I'm not eating it,
which pains me because I LOVE pizza. Interestingly one of
the other places I frequent, Bergen Bagel, has a system.
Workers handle the food with one gloved hand and the money
and implements with the other. It works (or at least I have
yet to witness it not working). I guess nothing is totally
sanitary but at the very least, I feel better about it if I
don't see it. You've got to draw your line somewhere.
