Jackass Week continues...
A man walked up to me last night and said, "This is the most fucked up bathroom I've ever been in."
My response: "Sorry you feel that way."
How else am I to respond? Should I have joined in with the idiot and talk shit about my workplace? Perhaps I should have said, "Yeah, verily 'tis true this place of rest is rather confusing. 'Tis rather unfortunate that your mechanical skills are limited when one imbibes copious amounts of fermented bread. How odd it is to share a restroom with members of the opposite sex! Alas! Egads! Oh I have seen it all! Shall we depart from whence we came? Your rock or mine?"
That would have been too confusing for him, huh? Maybe I should have cursed, farted, and then spit on the ground. He would have had a good laugh then. Maybe if I fit the word "boobie" into the conversation and showed him something shiny he would have given me a tip! Oh, if I only could turn back time like Superman!
Oh, fair readers, that's not the end of the story.
An hour or so later a man walked into the restroom. He seemed a bit confused as to which stall he could use. Like a moth, he was immediately drawn to the ones with the light on. As he started to push on the door to the occupied stall I let him know that the light means it is occupied. Oh, but that did not stop our druken idiot of a guest. He still pushed.
Let me tell you a secret about myself. I hate it when people don't listen to me.
So, I sternfully let him know, once again, that the light meant that it was occupied and then directed him to an open stall. Perhaps he felt that he was being treated like a child, because when he came out of the stall all he could do was complain. Like a child. And who did he complain to? That's right! The man from the beginning of this story. It turns out they were friends and they happened to be in the restroom at the same time.
Birds of a feather flock together! It's unfortunate to think that this particular adage has negative connotations as well.
As the night was winding down I was talking to the bartenders. They said that those particular men complained to them about me. To the bartenders no less. I guess they did not like me because they thought I was an asshole. Boo hoo. I've been called worse by more intelligent and sober people.
Their friend -- let's call him Idiot #3 -- complained that I did not know anything about the menu. Everyone on the staff seemed a bit confused about that one. Why would a restroom attendant have to know about the cuisine? I know enough to get by, but don't ask me what my favorite dish is. Do you think I want to hang out at work on my days off?
At least there were some really nice ladies from New Zealand who stopped by for a bit. They were very lively. I actually had intelligent conversations with them which did not involve cursing or complaining. Is there something in the water down there?
My response: "Sorry you feel that way."
How else am I to respond? Should I have joined in with the idiot and talk shit about my workplace? Perhaps I should have said, "Yeah, verily 'tis true this place of rest is rather confusing. 'Tis rather unfortunate that your mechanical skills are limited when one imbibes copious amounts of fermented bread. How odd it is to share a restroom with members of the opposite sex! Alas! Egads! Oh I have seen it all! Shall we depart from whence we came? Your rock or mine?"
That would have been too confusing for him, huh? Maybe I should have cursed, farted, and then spit on the ground. He would have had a good laugh then. Maybe if I fit the word "boobie" into the conversation and showed him something shiny he would have given me a tip! Oh, if I only could turn back time like Superman!
Oh, fair readers, that's not the end of the story.
An hour or so later a man walked into the restroom. He seemed a bit confused as to which stall he could use. Like a moth, he was immediately drawn to the ones with the light on. As he started to push on the door to the occupied stall I let him know that the light means it is occupied. Oh, but that did not stop our druken idiot of a guest. He still pushed.
Let me tell you a secret about myself. I hate it when people don't listen to me.
So, I sternfully let him know, once again, that the light meant that it was occupied and then directed him to an open stall. Perhaps he felt that he was being treated like a child, because when he came out of the stall all he could do was complain. Like a child. And who did he complain to? That's right! The man from the beginning of this story. It turns out they were friends and they happened to be in the restroom at the same time.
Birds of a feather flock together! It's unfortunate to think that this particular adage has negative connotations as well.
As the night was winding down I was talking to the bartenders. They said that those particular men complained to them about me. To the bartenders no less. I guess they did not like me because they thought I was an asshole. Boo hoo. I've been called worse by more intelligent and sober people.
Their friend -- let's call him Idiot #3 -- complained that I did not know anything about the menu. Everyone on the staff seemed a bit confused about that one. Why would a restroom attendant have to know about the cuisine? I know enough to get by, but don't ask me what my favorite dish is. Do you think I want to hang out at work on my days off?
At least there were some really nice ladies from New Zealand who stopped by for a bit. They were very lively. I actually had intelligent conversations with them which did not involve cursing or complaining. Is there something in the water down there?
posted by t.a.f.k.a.y.e.l.r.a. at 12:52
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home