I'm wrestling with the idea that restaurants and bars might install tabletop computers with menus, Ms. Pacman and more. I have to wonder whether some of the other 500 people who handled my table this morning had flown in from Europe with the guy carrying the drug-resistant TB, sat down at my table and then sneezed.
So now I drag my fingers across the screen to order, press imaginary buttons on the tactile interface and then eat my french fries and other fun finger food.
My mom made me wash my hands before eating. Even if those 500 also had conscientious mothers, that one sneeze undid all their hard work. Not to mention the wet cloths that wipe the table, the curious little fingers that will roam across the screen each minute after touching who knows what, and other surface contacts I hesitate to describe on this family medium. I suspect my late father-in-law, a public health officer, would be aghast.
My response is at best Yuck, and at worst Run for the Hills! I hope public health officials pick up on this before we hear, "Good evening, my name is Sars; I'll be your server."
All from the company whose principal owner prides himself on his contributions to public health. Where do you want to go eat today?
Next time: The Global Warming implications of a billion tabletops glowing uselessly between meals.