PMB was sitting at a wobbly table at Pret A Manger having a sandwich and reading John Carey's What Good Are The Arts? when he heard a loud splat. No, it wasn't the sound of Immanuel Kant's gravestone exploding or Jeanette Winterson falling flat on her face. A young woman accidentally dumped the half-eaten contents of her tray on the floor as she brought the tray to the waste bin. PMB was startled, then turned to observe what fell: a sandwich wrapper, a quarter of a sandwich (exploded into lettuce and bread parts), and a napkin. The woman made the effort to scoop up the sandwich wrapper and throw it in the bin, left the napkin and food on the floor, and walked off.
PMB contends that there is something deeply disturbing about this display. First, if one will make the effort to pick up some of the mess she made, why would she only pick up some of the mess? Second, since she knows that the mess is her mess, who does she assume will clean it up for her? Third, why should she assume that either her mess is fine where it is or that, if it's not fine where it is, someone else should clean it up for her? Fourth, is she immune to the rightful social pressure, applied through the disapproving stare of at least one onlooker, to mind one's own mess and be respectful of other people? Perhaps the most plausible answer to any of these questions is simple enough: she doesn't care.
PMB can only conclude that she is a bad and inconsiderate person, at least in this instance. No excuses will be made for such behavior.
