You'll remember - loyal reader - that my throne lies in Stall #2 in the men's room here at the office. Yesterday, I was reigning over my kingdom, granted an audience by the royal porcelain, when something rather shocking occurred. I will get to that. But first, allow me to provide some background behind my visit to the promised land.
You see, I've recently added a new supplement to my diet. Recommended by a friend who will remain anonymous, I've started drinking a cupful of Metamucil each evening. Now, many will be distracted or turned off by the line on the label reading "Natural Laxative / Fiber Supplement". After all, isn't a laxative something for the irregular - an insensitive medical intruder to the body's natural working order? Keep in mind that this body's system requires a healthy level of fiber, a level mostly unprovided for in today's modern diet. I'll only refer to the 'muce as a 'fiber supplement'.
Which brings us to the shocking event mentioned in my introduction.
I entered the men's room to see an empty urinal (stall #1) and a closed door to the obviously occupied stall #3. Either good karma or fate smiled upon me, but my morning ritual had obviously been blessed. After my standard wiping of the seat with a wad of toilet paper (stall #2, by the way, has some heavenly TP), I placed my buttocks upon the seat.
A light tap-tap-tap-scroll sound emanated from the stall to my left (#3), indicating a BlackBerry user (I have no issue with BB use on the throne - the BB is a personal device after all, just save the conversation for later - stick to email). The sound drew my eyes to the floor, utilizing a well-known method to attempt to identify my colleague and neighbor by shoe. I saw the following:
Next, dear reader, the most shocking event occurred. The BB was holstered with a click, toilet paper was rolled off the brown paperboard tube, the toilet was flushed, the pants raised, belt buckled. The stall #3 door was opened. And then. THEN. My colleague and neighbor simply walked out of the men's room.
There was no sound of running water from the sink, no clunk-clunk from the soap pumps, no paper towels pulled from the stack. Dirty hands amongst the masses. I was shocked, dismayed, and suffered a momentary spinning of coffee-with-cream colored stall walls. While I always wash up before leaving the men's room, I can understand the thought behind skipping a rinse after use of the urinal. But it is inexcusable to leave unwashed after a #2.
I finished up my business, washed up, and returned to my day slightly off balance. And slightly skeptical about the world around me. If a tassel-shoed, old-schooler wise to the ways of the world can go unwashed, who else is sullying our environment with a lack of regard for fellow man?
My challenge to you, reader, is this: Help me determine how can I prevent this from happening in the future. Please, for the love of humanity, help us all.
*It is well known that the best wiping record possible is 2 wipes. The first wipe comes back clean, while the second wipe is known as the "Wipe of Disbelief".