Dear Cashier Lady,
You seemed nice. You smiled. You were friendly. It did not matter to you that I didn’t have my little discount card, you gave me the discounted price anyway. BUT, but, but-- that doesn’t mean I don’t mind you putting your spit on my bag or on my change as you count it out. Please, for the sake of the Oink, Oink Flu and other nastiness, keep your spit in your mouth where it belongs, unless of course, you’ve read one of my manuscripts and can’t help but drool due to the genius of my written word. I’d excuse you for that and perhaps slap a bib on you.
Thanks for your cooperation in this very hygienic matter.
The Lady in the Car Rubbing Hand Sanitizer on Her Hands Like Mad.