In the early 80s my wife and I were on the road late at night when we decided to pull into a fast food restaurant. We went through the drive thru and ordered burgers. As we sat in the drive I could see the lower half of the people in the kitchen when I observed the person at the grill put her foot up on a stool and scratch , rather enthusiastically, between her toes. I just put the car in drive and left!!!
Not restaurant related, but when I was a lieutenant in 1st ID, our company motor sergeant was a repulsive little troll of a man who looked like a hobbit with horn-rimmed glasses. While very adept at his job, and an exceptionally talented mechanic, the guy had few other socially redeeming features. On one NTC rotation, I went to his maintenance track one evening to check on the status of one of my vehicles and he was sitting on the back ramp of his M113, in the middle of the Mojave Desert, boots and socks off, digging between his toes with this ancient looking pen knife that he carried around. I discussed the business I needed with him and the whole time he sat there scraping under his toe nails, and liberating the toe jam and dead skin from his feet with that little knife.
The following morning the cooks had prepared T-ration bread pudding which they had left in the heated pan, cut into little cubes.
There was Staff Sergeant ________ stabbing at the cubes with that very same pen knife, feeding himself.