I was using the great room of rest today, playing with my phone, minding my own business, when suddenly a suit walks into the bathroom. First of all, he turd burgaled me. He pulled on the stall door several times before he finally caught the hint that someone was actually in the stall pinching a loaf. Then he goes into the next stall and drops trou, sits down, and proceeds to take the nastiest ass piss I’ve ever heard. It smelled like someone had just dumped a 30-gallon barrell of fetid porpoise shit right in the middle of the room.
I instinctively looked over and saw his shoes, bright shiny brown penny loafers with laces. Ahem. And his visitor badge, dangling on the floor by his trousers. After a couple of minutes I finished up and got ready to pull the door open. I heard the bathroom door open and someone popped his head in. “You all right in there, Kenny?” he said. Kenny said yeah, he’d be just a minute. So I go wash my hands, and as I’m looking in the mirror, I hear the ole swoosh of the toilet flushing.
Then I hear the stall door open. Then I hear the bathroom door open. Then I hear the empty, hollow sound of the stall door finding its way back to the frame. Clunk, clunk. Clunk. I crept away from the sinks and walked slowly by the stalls. Nope. No Kenny.
Fast forward to about thirty minutes ago. I’m sitting here at my desk, typing away, when I hear a group of voices approach our office space. It’s my boss, with three out-of-towners. He’s going around introducing them. And as they approached, I stood up. “Space, this is Kenny Lastnameton,” he said. I almost stuck my hand out, then that name rang a bell. Kenny! NO! So I stuck my hand in my pocket and finally, for once in my life got to use my favorite Tombstone quote. “Forgive me if I don’t shake hands.” He was like, “Okay…” all perplexed. Then my boss continues. “This is Bill Lastnamely.” I shook his hand and nodded. “And this is Keith Lastnamesonton.” I shook his hand, well met.
Kenny stood there looking at me for a minute. I wanted so badly to explain to him why I wouldn’t shake his hand. It would have gone something like this: “Look at my shoes, chief. Recognize them? Yeah! That’s right! I was your stall neighbor earlier when you were dropping that ass bomb in stall one. You didn’t WASH YOUR HANDS.”
What’s wrong with people?
That’s disgusting. I would have had to say something about it in front of his friends. People who don’t wash their hands after they defecate shouldn’t get to live in society.
About 8 out of 10 ladies where I work don’t wash. Nasty! I leave the bathroom with a towel in my hand to grab all of the doors on the way back to my office. Funny, I thought it was a cultural difference or something unique to South Florida. Wait, where did you say he was from?
Southern Floridians aren’t the only ones. What I can’t understand is how people can know that someone else is in the bathroom with them and still not wash their hands. The peer pressure alone should be enough incentive.
That ain’t right and those who don’t wash should be publicly humiliated. I use the towel trick too so as not to touch anything in the restroom.
That is so funny and seriously this happened to me the other day.. This one girl in the office always does this and “hello, if your not clean at home just be fake and wash a little at work” what I do in instances like this is, forinstance “office potluck” I will ask her.. “hey what did you bring today” and she says, “mac n cheese” and i say, “ummm” and make sure I don’t go near that stuff!!!
Who brings mac n cheese to potlucks? Seriously, isn’t that cheaping out just a little bit?