They’re everywhere.

The Stupid Plastic Glove People.

You’ll probably see one today.

Around lunchtime.

The Stupid Plastic Glove People.

I’m really not keen on The Stupid Plastic Glove People.

Firstly, because I think.

That they think.

That I’m blind.

And you’re blind.

I think that they think we can’t actually see how contemptible they are.

Well; we can.

Small Businesses. 

I’ve run small businesses.

So I understand that even though multi-tasking should be avoided.

Sometimes, it just has to be done.

But if I am stood in your sandwich shop.

And you’re making me a sandwich.

With one plastic glove on.

Or two plastic gloves on.

And you then beep, beep, beep the cash register.

And reach out for and take my payment.

And rummage and rattle around in the little trays of coins for 10 seconds.

Before handing me back my change.

Still wearing the same one or two plastic gloves that you wore when you made me my sandwich.

Then you are one of The Stupid Plastic Glove People.


Contemptible is a harsh word.

Yet if we define it as (something like):

…a low standing in any scale of values.

Then I think that contemptible is an accurate description for the attitude of The Stupid Plastic Glove People.

Because I think that The Stupid Plastic Glove People don’t value me.

Or my safety.

Or any of their customer’s safety.

Or their own levels of hygiene.

Or their own systems.

Or common sense.

Whether they are disrespecting and undermining and weakening their own brand.

Or whether they are disrespecting and undermining and weakening the brand that they are working for.

And that’s why I think The Stupid Plastic Glove People are contemptible.

Last Tuesday Lunchtime.

And it is also why.

Last Tuesday Lunchtime.

I wandered into my local sandwich shop.

Where two Stupid Plastic Glove People work.

Still wearing the exact same overalls, wellingtons and gloves I had worn for three hours at that morning’s ‘Third Annual Cowshit Throwing Contest’ at Buttertrump Farm in Jesmond.

Before wrapping my gloves around, picking up and sniffing about 30 of said sandwich shop’s Danish Pastries.

And eventually buying just one.

They weren’t amused.

(But I was).


There is one fib in this story.

See if you can spot it.

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