"What's the stuff look like?" you ask Michelle.
"It's in a black garbage bag," she says. "Why?"
You stand. "Because they're going to let me in there."
Michelle's eyebrows rise, but she doesn't argue. You walk over to the canteen area, waiting politely in the queue until you reach the first lunch lady.
You give her a bright smile. "Hi there," you say. "Sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering if I could have a quick look over the kitchens. It's just that I have a gluten intolerance and I want to make sure that everything in there's up to code. Do you know what I mean?"
You receive what you can only describe as a very heavy look from the lunch lady in question. Between the face mask and the hairnet, there's not a lot of face on display or much visible expression on it, but what you can make out isn't exactly promising.
"It'll only take a second," you go on, trying to keep the smile going. "And really, it is sort of a legal requirement. I think it might actually be a human right, though I can understand if those aren't something that get talked about a lot here."
Again, the only response is a stony stare, the stone in question being a particularly jagged specimen.
Next