There is a special place in Hell…

…for the makers of Frill Picks. These tiny slivers of wood are the bane of my existence. I truly believe they are hand-made by Satan himself. For whatever reason, doesn’t matter what brand, an average of six out of every ten picks will lose their cellophane “frill” before the food leaves the kitchen. Where do those errant pretty pieces of plastic end up? Usually in someone else’s food. They are strangely attracted to spring mix, where they are virtually impossible to detect. Believe me when I tell you, there is a direct correlation between the volume of food being put out and the shed rate of the picks. And it never fails, when you are right in the middle of having your ass handed to you, you will inadvertently stab a sandwich with the wrong end of the pick. Of course the cellophane will come off somewhere in the middle of said sandwich. Never to be found. Except by the customer, of course.



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