Most people, let's call them the 99 percent, order popcorn not just knowing, but hoping it will also include the delicious parts. The rest, or the 1 percent, if you will, are totally within their right to ask for popcorn with no added flavor, but to that right, I say, "f**k you, right."
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And you can use the butter as lube.
Here's the problem. When you get an order for unsalted, unbuttered popcorn, you either have to find a popcorn machine that's not in use (which, on busy days, is nearly impossible) or you have to dedicate one machine at the beginning of the day to fulfilling this person's specific request. After that, you drag the sack of unsalted popcorn from the dank corner of the food storage closet that's reserved for foodstuffs no sane person would willingly consume (the Raisinets are kept here also) and wipe down the entire machine, because when someone gets picky about their popcorn, they usually end up on the extremes of pickiness. They don't want any stray traces of butter in their bland bag, and they will CSI investigate that s**t until they're satisfied that they've been given untainted concessions.
Even worse, popcorn (the tasty kind) followed me everywhere. The smell stuck to my work clothes in ways that I'd never thought possible, and since I was only given one work polo, rewashing it every time I got the chance didn't save me from becoming popcorn's unwilling mascot. You become sort of a landfill of popcorn smell. You had the oldest popcorn smell, which was smashed down and covered with newer popcorn smell, which was soon to be tamped down and replaced with an even newer popcorn smell. In no time at all, you become the saddest example of stratification ever.
Imagine smelling like you just got bukakked by the entire Redenbacher family.