Forty-nine

I regularly see things that make me want to give up on humans. Things that make me want to run away to a cabin in the wilderness and hide forever. But there are some problems with that fantasy. One, there’s not much true wilderness remaining and what is remaining belongs to the government. Secondly, there’s no Starbucks or WiFi and I freely admit I’m an addicted prisoner of capitalism.

A shortage of good cheese, chocolate and wine terrifies me to my bones.

Today’s exhibit of hopelessness involves men in bathrooms, specifically the bathroom in my office building. I regularly see men leave stalls and walk out the door without washing their hands. In fact, most of them don’t wash their hands.

I’m going to name the last one Joe. Joe doesn’t realize it, but he literally has poop germs on his hands. Maybe actual poop. With his poop hands, he opens the doors to the bathroom and then to his office, spreading his poop germs. They’ll likely touch the copier and other things in the office, spreading more germs. Poopy Joe might even shake your hand before lunch, whereby transferring his poop germs to your sandwich.

“I’ll have the turkey on wheat with E. coli, please. Hold the mayo.”

These people obviously don’t understand hygiene, but they also don’t care about other people.

Joe is the kind of guy that will not allow you merge in traffic. He’s likely to cheat on little things in business that no one will ever notice, like his expense report. Probably doesn’t even recycle. Joe will hit on your wife.I mean, if he’s willing to spread poop germs everywhere, what are Joe’s real limits? Joe likely has no boundaries.

After washing my hands, I always grab a paper towel and use that to open the door. Since there’s no garbage can by the door, I carry the towel all the way back to the office and dispose of it in my office garbage can. But the whole thing makes me never want to shake anyone’s hands, because you never know when you will meet your own Joe.

Beware of Joe. He’s out there and poop is everywhere.  

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