Cleaning Up After Myself

I have a confession to make. Two, actually. The first is that I eat fast food. I know it's bad for me. I have seen this video, watched Supersize Me, read Fast Food Nation and even, unfortunately, seen the film version. I recognise that what I'm eating barely counts as food, but sometimes it is just convenient. Other times, to be perfectly honest, it just satisfies a craving for junk food.

Having said all this, I eat fast food quite rarely. I really do mostly do it for convenience. I estimate I eat a fast food meal twice per month, on average. Of course, this is an average figure. I sometimes go months without setting foot inside a Burger King, other times I find myself there twice per week. I don't think it's a serious problem, in the same way that a smoker who only smokes two per day doesn't have a problem.

My second confession is likely to be much more contentious, at least to those of you who frequent these "restaurants". I don't always clean up after myself. I sometimes toss a greasy napkin onto the pile of discarded wrappers, get up and walk out the door.

My motivation for this post is that I was in McDonalds last night (for the first time in about 2 years) with Rose. We had just been to the cinema and she wanted to eat something. I didn't, but I felt it would be rude to make her go by herself, so I tagged along and got guilted into buying a cheeseburger (why are girls unable to eat when in the presence of a man who is not eating?). When we finished, I announced I was not going to put the wrapper in the bin and she looked at me as if I had just urinated in her cornflakes, then proceeded to tidy up after me.

My reasoning for this is not just that I am a complete jerk. That's only about half of it. The other half of it is based on the fact that I am not obliged to clean up after myself. When I receive my tray of "food" I am not reminded of my duty to dispose of it properly. In fact, if you look closely the next time you are in one of these restaurants, you will notice that the person who served you your food will occasionally come out from the "kitchen" (I'm going to keep on doing this to food-related words because it entertains me), put away trays, straighten up chairs and drag a wet mop across the floor.

Of course, that is not the whole story. I am not so defined by my role as customer that I refuse to lend a hand when it costs me nothing. But the fact is that I regard the cleaning up after myself part of the exchange as a kind of a tip. In a normal restaurant, you eat your food and when you're done, you pay for it and, if you liked it and you felt that the service was good, you will leave extra money, often in proportion to how much of a good time you had (note to Americans and other people who pay their waiters less than minimum wage: I live in Europe). In a fast food joint, on the other hand, you pay for your food up front. The staff have no incentive to make an effort because they know they will not get remunerated for it. So I consider cleaning up as making their job a tiny bit easier and that is my tip.

As an example, if I go to, say, KFC, and I get served by a friendly young Chinese girl who doesn't obviously hate me and my food is served promptly and in a warm, edible and moderately tasty state, I will be happy. If I am able to find somewhere clean and warm to sit, I will be very happy. After this sort of experience, I will clear my table and leave it as I found it. On the other hand, if I go to, say, Burger King and I am served by some guy who doesn't understand my order, and gets impatient with me because I don't have the right sort of Dublin accent for his imperfect grasp of the lingua franca, then proceeds to serve me stale chips and a lukewarm, excessively oily burger and the wrong drink, I will not be happy. If I then have to clear a table to find somewhere to sit, i will be doubly unhappy. When I finish, I will plonk my tray on the table and saunter out the door. Bonus points for accidentally dropping greasy things on the floor.

So you are probably thinking that I am an excessively vindictive, crotchety old man. Maybe you're right. I can't say I care.

Coming up: my solution to shops stocking Christmas items before November - hiding them in interesting places (at the back of a freezer, on top of the shelves, etc.). Bonus points if the items are perishable.