Nutty B Confession 2: Irony is the Best Work Companion

Working at this cart for the past few years has given me a startling realization. Irony is my only constant friend. I stay this because I have one major confession to make: the product I sell with such vigor would kill me. I am deathly allergic to all nuts and nut products. Have been for years. So anytime a prospective customer asks me “Which is your favorite?” I usually laugh it off and say “It’s a subjective question.” And mention that it depends on personal tastes. The unwashed masses are fine with this answer. But some do press the question to which I reveal my horrible secret. The truth to the question is “They all taste like a slow painful death at the hands of anaphylactic shock to me.” The then response is typically concern. Most wonder how I do it. Then they buy something and I continue my day. Irony also appears when I sample and the response back is that the individual is allergic, to which I reply “Me, too.” Mostly because I find the food allergic community of the day takes themselves entirely too seriously. Sure, having food allergies is serious and should stand to bring us together and not provide a pretentious podium for entitled people to stand on. The reaction from those also in the allergic community is less than sympathetic. Why in the world would anyone willingly work in a place that in fact can and most likely will kill them?
The beauty of it is in the fact that I have very little actual interaction with the product. Between bagging and selling I don’t really touch anything. So even though the risk is always present I feel fairly safe. I do have irony on my side. He won’t let me die. Yet.

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