It was a beautiful day in Monterey California. It was like most days there, but this special day was to be wildly different. My working partner for this day, Phil, (no last names here, only true first names) and I were working not far from the Del Monte Shopping Center. When lunch time rolled around, I hadn't brought My Igloo lunch pail. This day, unlike the day before, we wouldn't gather our lunches and kick back on the front steps of the place we were working on and listen to Paul Harvey while we ate.
I don't remember just what kind of glass work we were doing, but it wasn't the kind of work for your everyday glaziers. Most of the work around there wasn't for your everyday glaziers. For those who aren't familiar with the Monterey - Pacific Grove - Carmel CA area, just think of it as a place movie stars like to live. I worked on movie stars homes like Clint's, Doris Day's, sports celebs homes, politicians homes and even a job or two for the mob.
I needed to run down to a local fast food restaurant and pick up some grub. We both hopped in the glass truck and shot down to a fast food place on the edge of the Del Monte Shopping Center. Phil popped open his Igloo lunch pail and went to work on some low carb stuff. I hopped out of the driver's seat and went into the FF place. When I returned to the truck, Phil was slowly eating away at his lunch. I hopped in and set up for a quick bite to eat. The first article of food from the plate was good. The second bite of the second article of food was a different story.
That second bite of the second hunk of food had a hard chunk of something in it, so I bit down harder a second time for some COMPLETELY STUPID reason, and that's when it hit me. The sour flavor. The hard chunk of something was like biting down on a chunk of hard rubber. The sour flavor's what caused me to spit the chunk of food back onto my plate. Phil looked at me with a sideways look, that look he gives when something wierd happens on the job. I flicked open the chunk of food with a finger, and there it was, big as life and twice as nasty.
A FINGER! Well not a whole finger, but a chunk of finger almost an inch long. I started spitting! This chunk of finger looked to be maybe a young female worker's partial finger. Not the part with the nail, but probably the next piece back - from the first knuckle to almost the second knuckle. It was sickly whitish, sort of like the color of a part of a finger where a band aid was just removed after several days. I was still spitting at this point, and would continue to do so for at least another 2 hours, although I ran out of saliva in a just few minutes. That stinking sour flavor! I'll never forget that!
I hopped out of the truck and took the plate of food back inside the restaurant. There were two workers behind the counter - a teenaged boy and girl probably around 18 to 21. I sort of slapped the plate of "food" down on the counter and told them loud enough so everyone eating inside could hear, When you say ------ ---- you really mean it! They both took a step toward the plate and stopped. They had nailed it with their eyes, and wouldn't come any closer. I turned to walk out the door. As I opened the door and looked back, and they were both still staring at it, motionless. I'd still like to know how they disposed of it, and if they contacted their superiors about it.
When I got back to the truck, still spitting, Phil had closed his Igloo and decided he wasn't really hungry anymore, even though he'd only eaten about half of his lunch. He's about 6'1 & no fat. Back at the glass shop that evening after work, several of the guys said I was crazy for not sueing them blind, but that's just not me. My main concern (not counting the nasty sour flavor), was for the poor young gal who had lost her finger in a food processing machine. I have one tip for those of you who eat fast food: if you bite down on something hard in your food, DON"T BITE DOWN A SECOND TIME! Check it out first. Better safe than sorry.
I really wish they hadn't given me the finger! For those who would doubt this story, DON"T. It is 100% true. I wish it weren't. I don't think Phil will ever forget that lunch either. BTW, Phil had a really fun thing happen to him one Super Bowl sunday in the late '80s or early '90s. He had gotten to the sports bar out Carmel Valley road early enough to get a table to himself. Just before the game, in walked Clint and a couple of his buddies. All the tables were full, and Phil's table was the only one left almost empty. Clint walked over to Phil and asked if he and his friends could join him. Phil almost fell out of his chair making all kinds of welcome gestures. To make a long story short, Clint paid for all eats and refreshments for all at the table, and wouldn't have it any other way.
Phil became a casual aquaintence of Mr Eastwood.
Hope this story didn't make you sick,
Terry B
I don't remember just what kind of glass work we were doing, but it wasn't the kind of work for your everyday glaziers. Most of the work around there wasn't for your everyday glaziers. For those who aren't familiar with the Monterey - Pacific Grove - Carmel CA area, just think of it as a place movie stars like to live. I worked on movie stars homes like Clint's, Doris Day's, sports celebs homes, politicians homes and even a job or two for the mob.
I needed to run down to a local fast food restaurant and pick up some grub. We both hopped in the glass truck and shot down to a fast food place on the edge of the Del Monte Shopping Center. Phil popped open his Igloo lunch pail and went to work on some low carb stuff. I hopped out of the driver's seat and went into the FF place. When I returned to the truck, Phil was slowly eating away at his lunch. I hopped in and set up for a quick bite to eat. The first article of food from the plate was good. The second bite of the second article of food was a different story.
That second bite of the second hunk of food had a hard chunk of something in it, so I bit down harder a second time for some COMPLETELY STUPID reason, and that's when it hit me. The sour flavor. The hard chunk of something was like biting down on a chunk of hard rubber. The sour flavor's what caused me to spit the chunk of food back onto my plate. Phil looked at me with a sideways look, that look he gives when something wierd happens on the job. I flicked open the chunk of food with a finger, and there it was, big as life and twice as nasty.
A FINGER! Well not a whole finger, but a chunk of finger almost an inch long. I started spitting! This chunk of finger looked to be maybe a young female worker's partial finger. Not the part with the nail, but probably the next piece back - from the first knuckle to almost the second knuckle. It was sickly whitish, sort of like the color of a part of a finger where a band aid was just removed after several days. I was still spitting at this point, and would continue to do so for at least another 2 hours, although I ran out of saliva in a just few minutes. That stinking sour flavor! I'll never forget that!
I hopped out of the truck and took the plate of food back inside the restaurant. There were two workers behind the counter - a teenaged boy and girl probably around 18 to 21. I sort of slapped the plate of "food" down on the counter and told them loud enough so everyone eating inside could hear, When you say ------ ---- you really mean it! They both took a step toward the plate and stopped. They had nailed it with their eyes, and wouldn't come any closer. I turned to walk out the door. As I opened the door and looked back, and they were both still staring at it, motionless. I'd still like to know how they disposed of it, and if they contacted their superiors about it.
When I got back to the truck, still spitting, Phil had closed his Igloo and decided he wasn't really hungry anymore, even though he'd only eaten about half of his lunch. He's about 6'1 & no fat. Back at the glass shop that evening after work, several of the guys said I was crazy for not sueing them blind, but that's just not me. My main concern (not counting the nasty sour flavor), was for the poor young gal who had lost her finger in a food processing machine. I have one tip for those of you who eat fast food: if you bite down on something hard in your food, DON"T BITE DOWN A SECOND TIME! Check it out first. Better safe than sorry.
I really wish they hadn't given me the finger! For those who would doubt this story, DON"T. It is 100% true. I wish it weren't. I don't think Phil will ever forget that lunch either. BTW, Phil had a really fun thing happen to him one Super Bowl sunday in the late '80s or early '90s. He had gotten to the sports bar out Carmel Valley road early enough to get a table to himself. Just before the game, in walked Clint and a couple of his buddies. All the tables were full, and Phil's table was the only one left almost empty. Clint walked over to Phil and asked if he and his friends could join him. Phil almost fell out of his chair making all kinds of welcome gestures. To make a long story short, Clint paid for all eats and refreshments for all at the table, and wouldn't have it any other way.
Phil became a casual aquaintence of Mr Eastwood.
Hope this story didn't make you sick,
Terry B
!