Arrest-room

On one of the episodes of "Enter the Chasm"- the podcast I was creating and co-hosting, I discussed one of my biggest pet peeves. Due to technical difficulties, this portion of the show never aired, but I still felt it was an interesting enough topic that I would instead write about it here.

What's my latest pet peeve? Bathroom attendants.

I know, I am horrible, and I apologize to anyone reading this who makes a living doing this job, but I can't stand walking into a bathroom with an attendant there. It's like walking into a coffee shop and having an employee walk you to your table, stand there, and ready to wipe any crumbs from your muffin off your table. And then expecting a tip. I can wipe off my own muffin, thank you very much.

I guess I've gotten particularly annoyed lately because I seem to keep running into them. About a year ago, I went to see a show at Rams Head Live. After dropping dough on parking, getting a ticket to the event, and buying a bottle of beer (Budweiser, for God's sake) I realized my funds were dwindling. I finally had to make a quick trip to the bathroom and as soon as I pop in, there she was. Complete with a big basket of toiletries and fresheners, she stood waiting, soap pump in hand.

I silently groaned, but what could I do? Nature was calling and I was already in her lair. Once inside the stall I sorted through whatever bills I had left- only to discover the smallest I had was a five.

Now I believe I have also made it abundantly clear that I am a rather cheap person. So the thought of forking over a $5 for someone to squirt some soap and hand me a paper towel seemed not only indulgent, but insidious.

Still, I am also a fearful, timid, and guilt-ridden individual, so the thought of trying to quickly squirt my own soap and grab a towel, sheepishly sneaking out without dropping money into her little glass jar made me even sicker to my stomach than my Budweiser.

So, with teeth-clenched, I walked out and let her hurriedly satisfy my sanitation needs. And then, making sure she saw the five spot I was handing over, placed the bill into the jar.

She seemed pretty grateful, so that took some of the bite out.

On another occasion I walked into the bar bathroom and spotted another bathroom attendant. This time, she had put up several signs all around the sinks explaining how she makes next to nothing, except for whatever she gets for tips. God damnit- I sunk another $2.

Finally, on a most recent trip, I walked into the cramped bathroom of a Tex-Mex restaurant down in Power Plant, and again, there was a bathroom attendant. Son-of-a..

All these previous times I had been guilted and prodded to just bite the financial bullet and tip these ladies.

Maybe it was the particular mood I was in; maybe it was the 3 Dos Equis coursing through my veins; or maybe I just felt it was time I took a stand and said "no more".

Or maybe it was just the fact that I had gone to the bathroom without my wallet.

In any event, I allowed the nice lady to squirt my soap and once I had rinsed off, hand me my towel. I dried my hands, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and bolted for the door.

I never looked back.