Why do I have to do it twice?

Seriously. You want fries with that?

In my ongoing effort to see just how quickly I can obliterate my health savings account this year, I saw the dentist yet again today. The quest to fix my broken tooth has taken on the timing of the search for what the Kardashians' won't do for money. Simply put, it has no end. As a result, I found myself in the dentist's chair this morning for appointment #382. It started with the dentist telling me there was no need to numb me up because my tooth was dead anyway. Well, good morning to you too, Princess. It ended with me walking away with what I believe may have been a mild concussion, thanks to the drill she used. Apparently it was obtained from a recently shuttered mine.

Anyway, I decided to treat myself to a doughnut after the visit. Because why not head directly to a sugar dealer immediately after seeing the dentist. So I went to a nearby outlet of the ubiquitous doughnut purveyor that you can find, by law, about every 500 yards here in Connecticutistan and Mass. I walk in to get my pumpkin doughnut. As I approach the counter to place my order, the slacker kid assigned to the register appears out of nowhere and asks, "Bra', what can I get you?" Bra? He really said it. Hearing that word, I quickly looked around to see if Dog the Bounty Hunter was lurking in the shadows, but seeing no sign of a wicked mullet, I felt it was safe to proceed with my order. He began to swivel around to the rack o'doughnuts, when his manager swooped in and the following played out before my eyes:

Strident Teen Manager (think Tracy Flick from 'Election'): You just got back from the bathroom. You washed your hands, right?

Bra' the Donut Boy: Sha,yeah!

Strident Teen Manager: You have to wash them again.

Bra' the Donut Boy: But I washed 'em. 

Strident Teen Manager: Didn't you watch the video in training? You have to wash them twice. Once in the bathroom. Then again here!" She then harshly pointed to the sink next to the counter, expertly jabbing her microphone-adorned head toward the sink.

Bra' the Donut Boy: (in a defeated half-wail) Why do I have to do it twice?

Strident glared and he knew the battle was lost. He sulked over to the sink and she spun back around to me with my doughnut magically in what I can only assume was her twice-washed hand. I kind of felt bad for Bra'. He was now staring down the barrel of a long shift of glares, recriminations, and probably a forced watching of the hand washing video during his break. I just hope she doesn't make him practice.

Hopefully he learns his lesson about picking his battles in the workplace. You've got to choose wisely. You don't want to be the one practicing hand washing in front of customers because you chose the wrong time to lament, "Why do I have to do it twice?"