A number of years ago, I read a day-in-the-life profile of a New York City foodservice inspector, a government worker who visited restaurants and schools throughout the five boroughs to assess compliance with city codes.
Three things I remember from the piece:
First, that when he found food that was in any way unfit for human consumption, he "condemned" it on the spot by pouring motor oil on it. Since he never trusted the establishments to ever dispose of anything, this was his way of making certain (with the thick, black viscosity of a couple of quarts of the oil) that it wouldn't and couldn't be used, even after he left the premises.
Second, he had a trick to make sure that any food left on a customer's plate wouldn't be re-served. On certain "mystery shopper" inspections, he would order an entree like fried shrimp, and leave two or three on the plate. In these remaining shrimp, he'd place a tiny rolled-up piece of paper, concealing it under the breading. A colleague would then follow him in and immediately order the same thing, checking this second order to see if the leftovers made it to the new plate.
Third, he was asked about the worst thing he had ever seen in all his years as an inspector. You'd think in New York City, it could be just about anything, probably beyond imagining. His answer, while bad, wasn't quite as horrific as I expected. It happened in the kitchen of a school. He came in and saw one of the cooks getting lunch ready. The guy wasn't wearing a shirt, and just had on an apron over his bare torso. He stood over a giant mixing bowl, mixing tuna fish by hand, which was reaching up above his arms and into his armpits.
No surprise, the contents of the bowl got the motor oil treatment.
Anyone want to share other fond recollections?
See, I'm an idea man, Chuck. I got ideas coming at me all day. Hey, I got it! Take LIVE tuna fish and FEED 'em mayonnaise!
-Michael Keaton's character in Night Shift