And the other drawer? Wouldn’t shut when I kept pushing it shut, and my very helpful product assistant (no sarcasm here, she’s a truly helpful and lovely person) pointed out the magnet on the side that is used to hold the drawer shut.
Don’t envy me and my fancy desk, Reader. I’m still waiting on a laptop and a suitable chair.
On to other things that cause me to scratch my head. The signs in the bathroom continue to befuddle.
This is right on the wall when you walk in, giving you a little bathroom pep-talk:
To what does this message refer?? Toilet paper?? I didn’t know that I needed a pep-talk from the engraved signs as I go to do my lady business.
However. Someone could have heeded that advice in some manner. Immediately after reading the sign I rounded the corner to enter a Tiny Town stall and reared back in horror. There was a shit-explosion of unseen-before magnitude in that bathroom stall, and I frankly don’t know how someone could have created that horror, sauntered out, hopefully followed the wash-your-hands-rules, and then returned to their desk as if they hadn’t just defiled the very small company’s shared bathroom space.
They need to emphasize the LADIES on the “Ladies Restroom” sign. Obviously.
Because no “lady” created that mess and left it behind.
I was going to take a photo to visually telegraph the juxtaposition of the engraved messaging with the reality of Disgusting Non-Ladies, but even I knew when to draw the line in the sand on TMI. Which surprised even me, because Reader? I didn’t know I knew what constituted TMI. Pessaries and things that burn my hoo-ha aren’t off limits. But now? I’ve learned.
So really? That unladylike bathroom shitter person? Was a teacher. Like Mother Theresa, spreading good into the world. Because I learned sharing boundaries. And why it’s important to touch absolutely everything in the bathroom with paper towels.