09/02/2014 09:26 am ET Updated Sep 02, 2014

I Ate With A Food-Shaming Fork For A Week

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I am sitting in a restaurant tucked away on a quiet street in Tribeca, stabbing at overpriced Brussel sprouts with a neon green “smart fork” approximately four times the size of a regular fork. Bankers in cuff links have already gathered around the bar, their voices inching closer to maximum douche level with every Negroni, and I am trying to do my best impression of a normal human, pretending that using a comically oversize utensil to hoover vegetables into my mouth is a thing I totally do on the reg.

As I raise the fork to my mouth to deliver another Brussel sprout, it starts to violently vibrate, and I almost drop it on the table. The hostess eyes me suspiciously.

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