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...to not offer to share food, a'ight? Just a random rant, it's not really about work, it happens in a lot of different places.
Basic scenario. I'm at work having lunch or sitting somewhere out and eating and whatever, and someone gets nosy about what I'm having and after being told, go "Ohhhhh, can I have a bite?"
First of all, I only have the one spoon, so ew.
Second of all, MY FOOD GET YOUR OWN.
Third and most important of all, I inherited Cajun blood. My father eats habanero peppers like chips, has eaten a Red Savina without drinking water or anything; we both have a favorite brand of habanero cheese that we tear through as soon as it's in the house, and if his daughter (moi) can figure out a way to cram cayenne pepper into ANYTHING, she will. Every year for Christmas just about I end up getting him a box of various degrees of warmth, the mildest of which was some kind of Chipotle. We both sampled and brushed off as "bland" a hot sauce that sent my big tough monster of a cousin wheezing red-faced to shove his face under the sink. (It was called Satan's Asshole or something like that, if you're curious. I don't recommend it. Warm but yucky.)
What that averages out to mean is that most of the time, what I'm eating is potentially TOXIC to your average human. So if I don't give you a bite, it's not to be mean, I am concerned for your SAFETY. The fact that my dirty rice has stained a stainless steel spoon is a sign that something is amiss.
Seriously, especially when you've told me in the past that you don't like spicy food and I'm telling you my food is VERY SPICY, don't try to be tough and say you can take it. I'm trying to help you. Don't make me forget myself and give you some. I suppose I can always wash the spoon.
Basic scenario. I'm at work having lunch or sitting somewhere out and eating and whatever, and someone gets nosy about what I'm having and after being told, go "Ohhhhh, can I have a bite?"
First of all, I only have the one spoon, so ew.
Second of all, MY FOOD GET YOUR OWN.
Third and most important of all, I inherited Cajun blood. My father eats habanero peppers like chips, has eaten a Red Savina without drinking water or anything; we both have a favorite brand of habanero cheese that we tear through as soon as it's in the house, and if his daughter (moi) can figure out a way to cram cayenne pepper into ANYTHING, she will. Every year for Christmas just about I end up getting him a box of various degrees of warmth, the mildest of which was some kind of Chipotle. We both sampled and brushed off as "bland" a hot sauce that sent my big tough monster of a cousin wheezing red-faced to shove his face under the sink. (It was called Satan's Asshole or something like that, if you're curious. I don't recommend it. Warm but yucky.)
What that averages out to mean is that most of the time, what I'm eating is potentially TOXIC to your average human. So if I don't give you a bite, it's not to be mean, I am concerned for your SAFETY. The fact that my dirty rice has stained a stainless steel spoon is a sign that something is amiss.
Seriously, especially when you've told me in the past that you don't like spicy food and I'm telling you my food is VERY SPICY, don't try to be tough and say you can take it. I'm trying to help you. Don't make me forget myself and give you some. I suppose I can always wash the spoon.
I shall risk it.
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