If i’m telling you, “this is a hot plate.” But I make no effort to put it down, i’m internally yelling at you to move your shit. Your phone. Your keys. Your bread. Whatever is directly in front of you is from that point on is now classified as your shit. The shit you are suddenly responsibly for and I am burning my hands for. Move your shit. I’m not going to move it for you.
Shoutout to the people who see me approaching with their food and immediately start clearing the way for me. You are the real MVPs. You know what’s up. You understand.
As for everybody else. Move. Your. Shit.
Me
We see that and we respect the fuck out of you. Thank you.
This is literally what I do when food heads in my direction:
Address the situation. Is it my(our) food? If yes, I(we) proceed as follows
Phone, keys, bag, all on the floor
We sit at attention
Conversations have ceased, all attention is focused on you
When food is named, hands shoot up so you know exactly who to give what to
When plates are bestowed upon us we give thanks to you, bringer of our meal, who could have spit in it but has instead blessed us with hot food
I’ve never seen my tags attached to a post float back across my dash before! I feel oddly pleased by this ❤
octoberspirit 