Nothing puts a damper on a swell restaurant (or bar or strip club — yeah, c’mon) experience more than discovering there’s a bathroom attendant. Well, maybe going alone and wondering if you’re an alcoholic if you don’t talk to anyone, which makes it basically, kind of, sort of the same as drinking alone. Well, maybe that’s not as bad as going out alone and not having the gumption to for ask that whomever you find attractive’s phone number. Well, that might not be as bad as asking for that attractive’s number and getting denied — or getting a fake number. Well… wait. What’s this public diary drivel about again?
Oh! Bathroom attendants. Right.
Look, when I hit the head, I just want to take a piss in peace, not be offered some mints. And I can very easily get my own towel. Seriously, I’m already spending too much money I don’t have to spend on drinks or whatever, I don’t want to feel like I have to tip some guy handing out the towels I’m fine with getting myself in the men’s room.
It’s almost always made worse by the fact that the bathroom attendant is almost always some really old fella with an air of formerly dignified sadness about him. Seriously, to be forced to sit all night where drunk assholes piss and shit is not an ideal way to spend one’s twilight years. Honestly, it’s no way to spend any years in my jerk opinion.
So now, not only does one have to pay a buck or two just to dry one’s hands, one must also be confronted with a possible sad future if things go the way they’ve been going. (No? Just me? … Darn.)
Look, even the nicest bathrooms stink (figuratively, but often literally). It’s no place to spend your weekend evenings, shilling normally free paper towels and offering superfluous mints, gum, and squirts of cologne — especially when you should be enjoying retirement. (Whatever happened to retiring, by the way? Don’t see it in my cards.)
Dickhead world. It’s not fair to either the bathroom attendant or the bathroom user.
I know times are tough, so I don’t want the millions (?) of bathroom attendants to be out of work, but I also don’t want to feel like I have to pay a dollar for a paper towel to the grandfatherly man who just watched me piss.