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.

Dressing Down

The past few days have proven to me that sometimes I really do feel like I'm in a Seinfeld episode. I'm sure these situations happen to all of us, but I have the benefit of having nothing better to do than relate my experiences here, and hopefully, squeeze a chuckle out of somebody in the process. So here we go...

A few days ago I was walked into Target looking for a few filler gifts for Joe's birthday. You know, the kind of gifts that aren't supposed to be the MAIN focus, but are just a few odds and ends things the person could use.

As I walked past the women's clothing section, I was really trying to keep my focus away from shopping from myself when all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye I spied something purple. It was a sassy plum purple sundress with black piping and a corset-like top. It was actually close to my size (score!) AND on clearence for only $12 (shoot score!!). I knew that I was really there for Joe, but since I was taking him to a nice dinner I felt justified in getting a snazzy new dress for the occasion. Especially when I'd get change back from a $20- I LOVE that (cheap-ass that I am).

I head to the fitting room and take my plastic card, noticing I am the ONLY customer in there. As I'm assessing the dress I suddenly hear outside over at the fitting room attendant's desk, the attendant answering her phone.

"Hello?" she said, bright and chipper. Then there is a long pause.

".....What?.....What?.....WHAT!?", her voice suddenly becomes strained and choked up. And in mid-pose in front of my mirror, I froze.

Another quieter voice came over to her and I heard the attendant say, "My cousin just OD-ed...he was only 15..."

Now, my heart goes out to the poor girl at the horrible tragedy that has befallen her family, but I can't help but selfishly begin to worry about my own vain needs.

I am standing in a dressing room wearing a dress I decide not to buy, and unsure as to how to possibly get out without looking like an ass. I'm on a time crunch, so I really can't dally here all day. Yet, I feel weird bursting through the door and declaring to the devastated girl that I've changed my mind on the $12 dress and thanks anyway, pretending I didn't hear what she just revealed.

Then again, I feel weird somberly coming up with the dress and slowly handing it over, acknowledging the fact that I heard something so personal and sad.

I finally decide to split the difference and come out but remain pretty quiet.

Thankfully, the other attendants took her spot while another employee walked away with her to give her some privacy. I definitely still felt like a jackhole being the one customer actually trying things on at such an early hour and making them have to acknowledge me.

Maybe it would've been better if I had walked by handing over the card and just bought the dress....I still would've gotten change from a $20...