Chadwick K.
Yelp
To those who run the kitchens and to those who dine at their tables:
You may think I have no business addressing you. And in a sense, I don't--just as you may believe you owe nothing to the people who pass through your doors, spooning your soup and trusting, foolishly perhaps, that it will nourish them rather than disgust them. Yet we have all arrived at this moment, with a common interest in what it truly means to serve or be served.
I came to your establishment expecting a modest meal. I left with something far more revealing than I'd anticipated: a bandage floating in my wonton soup, a small, grimy scrap you likely believed was out of sight or out of concern. But there it bobbed, a silent testament to what happens when profit margins eclipse dignity--when the raw chase for inflated currency supplants any genuine regard for those you purport to feed.
To the Owners:
You are the guardians of your enterprise's integrity. You decide how to weigh cost-efficiency against cleanliness, speed against genuine hospitality. In an era where money's abstract value swells and shrinks on a whim, perhaps you think such "trifles" as a bandage in a soup matter little compared to labor costs or daily receipts. But if there is any justice, it is this: you should eat the very refuse you serve. Every contaminated morsel, every careless oversight--taste it firsthand. Let it remind you that turning a blind eye to quality is not merely an economic miscalculation; it is a moral failing.
To the Community:
You might say, "It's just an accident," or "It won't happen to me." But how many times do we dismiss these lapses until they become the new standard? We pay for our meals and expect the bare minimum of decency--yet too often, we swallow the lie that quick service and cheap meals are enough, that the owners' bottom line somehow absolves them of empathy. In truth, when we accept sloppiness for the sake of convenience, we, too, become complicit in allowing real human care to wither under the weight of inflated, meaningless currency.
What Is Really at Stake:
Some of you will protest that it's absurd to equate a lone bandage with a grand failing of society. But small details can be the perfect reflection of our deepest distortions. That bandage was once meant to cover a wound--a direct representation of care and healing. How bitterly ironic that it ended up contaminating food meant to nourish someone else. Could there be a clearer symbol of how the very tools of "service" are corrupted when we no longer value genuine well-being?
Karma and Consequence:
"Eat the shit you serve" is a crude phrase, but it's a crude world we create when chasing profit erodes our sense of decency. If karma exists, it insists that those who profit from others' misfortune or neglect will one day reckon with the same. Let the owners who cut corners consume the consequences of their carelessness. Let the community that tolerates such disregard taste the bitterness of complacency.
A Plea for Something Higher:
This does not have to be our standard. We could demand more from each other: owners who truly value the sanctity of what they place before their patrons, and patrons who hold establishments accountable for the simplest expectation of cleanliness and care. That "more" transcends mere money; it's an insistence on basic human regard. It's the recognition that a meal is not just a transaction--it's an act that can foster trust, community, and mutual respect.
Whether you dismiss this or take it to heart is beyond my influence. I offer it only as a reminder of what we trade away--piece by piece, bandage by bandage--when we treat profit as if it were the only currency worth having. If you wish to serve, then serve with dignity. If you wish to dine, demand the same. Otherwise, don't be surprised when we all end up tasting something as foul as the callousness we've allowed to flourish.
