Bathroom Attendants

I hate bathroom attendants. Not the attendants themselves, everyone's gotta make a living, but the fact that this position exists.

First, there's the awkward chit-chat, a discomfort that's exponentially exaggerated when it's just the two of you in there. Then, there's the tipping for shit I can do myself, and am expected to do myself during daytime hours. I mean, pressing the soap, turning on the faucet, handing me a paper towel?... Eh. I'm not impressed. If you want to impress me, unzip my fly and aim it for me while I take a piss; then I'll tip you (no pun intended).

But the truth is, I feel bad that the guy has to sit in a bathroom all night ingesting microscopic particles from drunk douchebags' piss, shit, and vomit, so I usually do tip the guy...but you can bet I grab a few of those awesome, individually-wrapped, Wint-O-Green Life Savers on my way out.

The one benefit that comes from the presence of these be-vested gentlemen, is that just by virtue of being there with soap and a smile, they put enough social pressure on pretty much every disgusting human being who would otherwise exit the restroom without washing his hands to wash his hands. See, I can be positive.