Considering how often we read horror stories about restaurants, it’s a wonder that anyone goes out to eat at all. But for some reason, not even the idea of hair in our food (or possible spit, if we’ve pissed off the server) will deter us from dining out — as long as it means that we don’t have to cook or wash the dishes. Salmonella? We’ll take it!
Until now! (Maybe. But probably not. Still, it’s Halloween, let’s keep things dramatic!)
Beware: the following anecdotes — taken from an Ask Reddit thread about terrible restaurant violations — are truly awful. In fact, after reading them, you may never want to eat anywhere but your own house again, even if it’s a life-and-death situation. How could eating out be a life-or-death situation, you may be wondering. Well, just check out this story about a hair-raising hospital kitchen:
Former Inspector here. I once discovered a rat infestation in the kitchen of a hospital. They asked me if I could prove my “suspicions.” I pointed out the numerous foodstuffs with 1″-2″ circular holes chewed in them, but they didn’t seem convinced. I showed them the trail of droppings and footprints coming and going from a hole in the floor drain, but they didn’t seem convinced. I showed them the three dead rats I had discovered under and around equipment. I think they began to believe me at that point. Citations included rat infestation, and absolutely deplorable cleaning practices.
Used to have a job working as an inspector for storage tanks at places like dairies and factories. Went to a cheesecake factory once to test a milk storage tank. It had just been cleaned and was being prepped to be filled with a tanker full of milk. I noticed the floor of the tank was covered in bleach. It turned out, the floor manager couldn’t be arsed to spend the time sucking out the rest of the cleaning fluid used in the cleaning process and, as standard, just filled the tank with milk on top of a dozen gallons of bleach.
What could be more delicious than something warm and deep-fried?
My uncle is a health inspector in rural Australia. He got several complaints about a fish n chips shop in a small town in Victoria, with reports of it being a bit grotty and people getting chunks of hair in their hot chips.
So he rocks up one day unannounced on a blazing hot day in the middle of summer, and the owner greats him and shows him around wearing a white singlet top with sweat patches under the arms, short shorts and no shoes. This guys body was covered in hair. Not just on his arms and chest, but his back and neck were like a werewolf. Clearly, this must be the source of the hair in the chips. My uncle decides to make a tactful comment about having wear appropriate clothes when working, so as to protect against hot oil burns.
After seeing the property and giving a few basic suggestions, the only other thing he notices that needs immediate attention is the deep fryer itself. The oil is old and filthy, and likely full of this guys hair, so he orders the bloke to drain it out right then and there. The owner does so, and at the bottom of the oil vat is a dead, deep fried and crispy….cat. Totally unphased, the owner simply said “oh, that’s where my cat went!”