I had one job.  One job only.  Pick up the fried chicken for our work picnic and safely deliver it to the picnic pavilion.

Unloading it from my car, I noticed something.  Something stark and undeniable.  A chicken grease stain in my trunk.  Chicken juice seepage that dripped from the container onto the floor.  My trunk had received a chicken scented bath.

Now, a true dilemma.  Clean the trunk and comply with societal expectations or leave the stain and have one epic smelling fried chicken air freshener.  No losers there.