The wife and I went to the Cubs game Sunday and had a great time with a couple of friends of ours. But, as is the case with most of RoadRage's excursions, there's always something I run into that annoys me.This time, it was the use of bathroom attendants at Harry Caray's Tavern. I can't understand the use of attendants in bathrooms at five star restaurants that I can't afford, let alone at Harry Caray's. C'mon! The job is bad enough, and then you have to top off their day by having them deal with drunken Cub fans who are spewing out their day's worth of alcohol and hot dogs after downing ten beers by the fifth inning.
But, I'm not here to comment on the plight of the attendant. My problem is with the role of the bathroom attendant itself -- and their need to try to do everything for you to secure tips.
I'm sorry, but when I go to the bathroom (which is a rare occasion in public bathrooms I'm unfamiliar with) I have a fairly good idea of what I have to do, and it's something that doesn't require assistance. I go in and take a leak or drop a deuce, wash my hands and I'm on my way.
But, guess what; when an attendant is on the clock, it's not that easy. You have to dodge them to get your own soap, and then when you try to dry your hands, forget about it -- you're either taking the paper towel in their hand, wiping your hands on their shirt, or you're out of luck, because there's no way you're getting a towel on your own.
So, thanks Mr. Bathroom Attendant, but sorry, there's no tip coming your way. I tip when someone helps me to do something I can't do -- like serve food to myself in a restaurant, or clean my hotel room during an extended stay. Not when I'm trying to take a dump.
RoadRage
No comments:
Post a Comment