Rant #33: Sample Swine

As you all know, I love free samples. Nothing makes me happier than walking into Starbucks and seeing that delightful stand of lemon cake bits neatly presented in their individual mini cupcake wrappers. (I'm currently sitting in Starbucks, writing this; I had one of those lemon cake bits approximately 43 seconds ago. I like to think the Starbucks goddess is my personal muse. [Please see me for my opinion on the new logo.]) One of my favorite things to do at noon on Fridays is to go to Costco and graze on all those marvelous samples for lunch. I always pop in to Bath & Body Works for a squirt of free moisturizer from the sample bottles.

Thus, anyone who stops me from taking a sample is the scum of the earth.

Last week, you see, I was at a marvelous coffee farm. At the end, naturally, there was a quite extensive gift shop, with lots of -- you guessed it! -- free samples. There were about 15 bowls of various treats: milk chocolate covered coffee beans, dark chocolate covered coffee beans, chocolate and coconut covered coffee beans, raspberry chocolate coffee beans, etc. In each bowl was a little spoon to scoop up one -- one -- piece. I, naturally, tried one -- one -- of each. I was happy, and, as I turned to leave, a woman walked into the gift shop.

She was a slightly zoftig, well-coiffed woman; a mother, perhaps. She walked into the shop and made a beeline towards the samples. We made eye contact; she grinned, and I grinned back. She stood next to me, with her hands on her hips, and sighed contentedly.

"Ooh, they all look so delicious," she sighed. I nodded in fervent agreement, and stepped aside so she could have a full perusal. She sidled over to the chocolate and coconut selection, and licked her lips. The spoon was right there.

"Oh," she said, "I'll just use my fingers". And with a self-deprecating laugh, her plump fingers dove into the bowl and emerged with a handful of chocolate -- about 10 beans, a third of the entire bowl. I watched, aghast, as she threw them down her throat and attacked the hazelnut brittle. I couldn't stand it, but I couldn't bring myself to confront her, to speak to this brute; I merely let out a low, disgusted hiss, spun around, and stomped out of the shop.

The spoon was right there. This woman knew that. She just thought that she was above the rule, that spoons were for plebeians, the little people, the unwashed masses. Not her. She was special. So special that people should feel honored that her hands had fondled their chocolate.

Oi. Vey.

These are the same people who double-park their cars and yell at cashiers. We do not care for them.

I know that none of my beloved, charming readers are this crass, but I implore you all to tell your friends and polite acquaintances: do not be this woman. Don't ruin the sacred system of the sample for me. The store is already giving away free stuff; the least we can do is be appreciative and polite.

And with that, I bid you all good night.