Samples are gross

i hadn’t realized i was staring until maybe the third or fourth time she asked me.  ”sir, i said. care-for-a-sam-ple!?!”  she being a 60-70 year old employee of the local jewel-osco offering me a pita chip with spinach-artichoke dip slathered haphazardly about it.  i glanced at the chip.  i took a look at the elderly woman.  my brow furrowed as my eyes studied the plastic gloves on her hands.  her hair was a collage of burnt orange and gray, matted back with a cheap blue visor.  curious consumers stood next to the stand.  chewing and analyzing the spinach artichoke dip, crumbs being spread like shrapnel in most directions.  they spoke to each other with their mouths full saying things like, “yep, i would buy this”.   a heavyset soccer mom standing there covering her face halfway with a napkin.  the well dressed pakistani man going back for second-helpings.  i could not accept the chip that was just offered to me.  in 3 seconds i realized this went way deeper than my simple xenophobia.  i was paralyzed just by the thought of drawing water from this community well.  ”i’d rather starve” i thought to myself.  for a brief moment i had clarity.  ”thank you, no.” i told her pleasantly with a warm half-smile.  i leaned on my cart to get it moving again down the aisle.  i mumbled to myself as i cantered away, “gross.”