A dirty story...

Fresh on the heels of a work week from hell was another work week from hell...

I'm somewhat exaggerating here... it just felt incredibly horrible since it took so long to be over (with a three day weekend waiting at the finish line I lost steam midway).

Since I'm all about easy I planned for a very light lunch for the loveables to prepare to be served Thursday, their last day of school for this week.

On Wednesday afternoon they worked hard to produce a fruit salad, a green salad and baked potato bar to be served the next day for lunch.

I put two male youth on potato scrubbing duty.

A relatively easy job.

I filled a sink with water, tossed in about 25 huge baking potatoes... (we're soaking off some of the dirt, I told the boys).

I handed them each a clean green scrubby pad.

They were instructed to give the spuds a final rinse and place them on a baking sheet.

The boys were done in record time...

And that should have set off some kind of warning flag...

of course it didn't..

and the dumn ass Pollyanna in charge of these freakin idiots believed that they had done as they were asked.

And I was proud of their accomplishment.

And if you knew these two you would know that getting them to walk six steps is a true accomplishment and that wasn't what was taken into consideration, but what should have been taken into consideration, when I saw that it only took them about sixty seconds to scrub 25 huge potatoes, yeah...

I took a peek at the potatoes and all seemed well.

Overnight that changed.

Those taters somehow sprouted little legs and went outside and played in the dirt.. each one of them dirtier than the next.

I was pissed.

Really pissed.

I filled the sink and scrubbed the potatoes, properly.

The water was nearly black with dirt when I was finished.

I told everyone who may have to come into contact with the dirty water in the sink to "leave it"...

I planned to ambush the team of Lazy and Lazy-er at lunch time.

And get to the bottom of the filthy potatoes.

My strategy was to offer them a potato... knowing full well they wouldn't take one since they'd left them dirty as hell.

They wouldn't get a chance to sit back and yuck it up while we chomped on the dirty potatoes.

No, before that could happen I would lead them to the sink and show them what I'd washed off the potatoes.

Let them know they didn't get one over on me.

(I really hate when they do that)

At lunch both boys took the potato I offered them...

with a smile and a thank you..

They took the (previously unscrubbed dirty filthy) potatoes...(with, I assume, the intention of eating them).

What the frick?

That was not in the plan.

I asked them to step into the back room with me.

"Look at the dirt in the sink" I told them, pointing to the filth that had settled at the bottom of the deep stainless steel sink "I had to rewash your potatoes and that is what came off".

They peered into the sink and stared at the dirt...

And I watched (closely) for evidence of a shit eating grin.

I watched for a "uh oh, we've been caught" squrim.

I didn't get either.

They both looked back at me...

Big, round brown eyes, saucer wide.

I spoke in a firm tone...

"There... is... a.... TRUST and an EXPECTATION when you are in a position to offer and serve food to people.

Those people you are serving TRUST and EXPECT that you have done everything in your power to see to it that the food you are serving is clean and fresh and in all ways healthy and SAFE to eat."

Like deer in headlights the boys stared and didn't move a muscle.

Finally one spoke "you never said to scrub them" he said.

He was convincingly sincere.

They both mumbled "sorry".

And Pollyanna bought it.

Lock, stock, and dirty potato.