Bohdan decided to follow instructions to the letter and, thanks to one strict warning, ended up washing his new kitchen tongs after every single pickle slice.

He was sitting at his kitchen table preparing a sandwich to go with his tea: bread, cheese, an open jar of sliced pickles, and his new metal tongs. The packaging printed a clear instruction: “Thoroughly wash after each use.” Being a methodical man, Bohdan took the rule literally.

The first slice landed on the cheese without incident. Bohdan stood up, dutifully washed the tongs under the tap, dried them with a towel, and returned for the second slice. After the second, he repeated the ritual, reasoning that picking up a single pickle definitely constituted a distinct “use.” By the third slice, he pulled his chair closer to the sink. By the fourth, he brought his plate over too—walking back and forth across the kitchen for a single click of the tongs felt like a waste of energy.

The dish towel was already soaked, yet the bread still had empty spots. Bohdan re-read the label carefully: thankfully, the manufacturer set no limit on the number of pickles allowed per use.

He tilted the jar, opened the tongs wide, and clamped down on a whole mound of slices at once. Pickles squirted out, splashing brine everywhere, so he squeezed harder. A generous portion finally crashed onto the bread, drenching the cheese in marinade.

Bohdan washed the tongs one last time, dried them, and put them away. But when he lifted the sandwich, the soggy bread sagged under the weight, and the pickles slid right back onto the plate. Bohdan sighed, set the tongs aside, grabbed a regular fork, and ate the pickles separately. He had followed the instructions to perfection, even if his tea was now completely cold.