Disclaimer: The story you're about to read is true. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent. Mostly because there are only 2 people in the story, and I didn't know the other guy's name, and since I'm the other person, well, I'm pretty sure you'll know who I am even if I change my name.
Also, it's kinda gross, so if you're squeamish, you may not want to read any further.
Ok, so let me set the scene for you:
I was working at the 7-ELEVEn in Morro Bay California while I was going to school. It was a pretty good school job, as I had the swing shift (3-11pm) which gave me plenty of time for my classes during the day.
I knew most of my customers's faces, if not their names, and I had a good rapport with the folks that came into the store.
I also saw some shit that will turn you white, to quote Winston Zeddmore, and it was my stretch in that purgatory that produced the title for this blog, which will also be the title (eventually) of my book.
On the swing shift, I saw all types. Students from the local schools, parents on the way home from work, beach goers, old retired couples...It ran the gamut. I also saw many folks that were, let us say, chemically altered.
Not that I'm judging, or saying that getting your party on is a bad thing, but it gets kinda old when you have to wait on them.
This one night (i dont know what time but it was dark out) this group of kids (by my standards anyhow) comes in to feed their need for munchies. Again, not judging, but it can get realllllly old waiting on folks that are drunk/stoned.
They buy their items, and off they go.
Sometime later, one of them, I'll call him Blondie, returns. In his hands, he's carrying the box of cookies he bought. On his face, he's wearing an expression of combined revulsion and disbelief. He set them on the counter and said:
'Dude there's a problem with these cookies.'
Knowing that this kid's plastered, and wondering what could possibly be wrong with them, I open them up. I saw immediately what the problem was. Some of the cookies were mangled, and appeared to have been ground into powder.
Also, there were some very small moths in the package.
Oh, and moth larvae as well. Now, I don't know why fly larvae are called maggots, while moth larvae are called....well moth larvae, because at that moment, I couldn't have told you the difference.
The look on the kids face is starting to make sense now. If I'd been out partying and started eating a box of cookies then, I don't know, felt something crawling on me, or Heaven forbid, something burst in my mouth, I think I'd have been pretty grossed out too.
Tho I was feeling his pain, my only option is to offer him his money back. I mean, that's really all I could do. I tell him so, and says:
'No, dude, you don't understand. I ATE some of these.'
I told him that I did understand, and now matter how much I sympathized, the only thing I was authorized to do was refund his money. I told him that the owner would be in for the graveyard shift, but that unless and until he spoke to the owner, all I could do was refund his money.
Needless to say, he took it, and left without incident.
Ok, so yeah, it's gross, but even in the midst of my disgust, I couldn't help but wonder how they had gotten there. I mean I don't remember what kind of cookies they were, but the packaging seemed pretty secure. It was a white cardboard box which was tightly wrapped in paper, for crying out loud.
My only guess is that it must have happened in the plant somewhere, long before the cookies made it to us.
In any event, if you want my advice, always check your cookies before you eat them.
Buenos con queso,
T.
