Look at this picture.
What do you see?
I realized today as I was grabbing a mediocre veggie burrito for lunch that part of what I see when I see a salsa bar is stress. I mean, I love walking up to the salsa bar and seeing all the wonderful spicy goodness ready to be spooned into my little containers. But as soon as someone else finishes paying and sidles up behind me I start to feel the salsa bar pressure.
Read on for more bitching.
I’m trying to enjoy the process (mmm, salsa verde…) but then I feel like I’m holding the other people up, and so I rush, but I don’t want to make a mess and make some poor bastard who already hates his job enough without me fucking up his pristine salsa bar to hate it even more, and I don’t want salsa pouring all over the side of my containers because then it could make my to-go bag wet and compromise its structural integrity, which would be DEVASTATING, but then I don’t want to be hogging the entire salsa bar — because they’re never big enough for two people, and even if they were, the other person would inevitably want the same salsa you wanted anyway — even though it’s my turn and everyone else should (and probably does) accept it and wait, because I hate oblivious people more than anything in this world — yes, even more than I hate genocide and epic injustice, and no, I’m not prone to exaggeration — and I don’t want to become that which I despise because then it defeats the purpose of adhering to a system of values in the first place, and without that, what the hell is this world good for?
I think maybe I should be on some form of medication.