The tall young waiter balanced the serving tray in his right hand. Steam could be seen rising from the delicious looking stir-fried green bean dish. I wished I had ordered that.
He was walking from the direction of the kitchen to the dining area when it happened. He sneezed. All over the green beans. No look of sorrow, repentance or embarrassment crossed his face. To him, this was normal, a non-event.
He passed my table, rounded a corner, and served the dish to the unsuspecting customers who, thanks to a wall that had obscured their view, had not witnessed the event. I'm sure they ate it all.
I want to eat at home from now on.
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