For years I ignored it. It just couldn’t be. In the staff room, after lunch, those soapy dishes left in the drying rack… I mean, surely, someone was going to come along and rinse them, right? The soapy residue taste when I ate a friend’s house… well, I must have been imagining it.
When I moved to Australia seven years ago, everything was new anyways, so what was a little soap on the dishes?
When you witness something that’s borderline sketchy…. what do you do?
I dared not speak up. Read the rest of this entry