The Perfect Attendant's Award

I don't care how luxurious your restaurant is. I do not need any type of "assistance" in the bathroom, thank you very much.

I can open the door just fine.

Removing my own pants can be accomplished with some persistence.

And, wait...what are these knobs for again? Where do I throw this paper towel after I'm finished with it?

The last time I required an attendant in the bathroom I was in potty training, and there was no need to feel guilty about not leaving a tip for Mom. She was in it for the glory, anyway.

I understand there are people in this world who enjoy throwing money at the service industry for luxurious and over-the-top accommodations. And while I generally prefer to carry my own bags, drive my own car, and clean my own house, paying for these services makes some sense, if you can afford them.

Making "pee pee" on the "poo poo" however, is a private matter, and I see no benefit in having any type of attendant, helper, or wingman.

And to feel obliged to leave compensation for a service that was not only unexpected, but arguably an intrusion - well that's an easy check in the "con" column of my restaurant review.

I harbor no ill will toward the gentleman who "attended" to my potty break. He was in fact diligent, personable, and forthright, and wielded pleasantries like "Good Evening, Sir" and "Those 'Dora The Explorer' briefs look especially sharp on you, Sir."

These are skills that could be applied to a real job; one that involves paying money for useful goods and services, like an elevator operator, or a valet parker, or a laminate salesman.

I felt sad for this young man, who could clearly succeed in any other customer service profession, but has been relegated to what is arguably the second-worst job on earth.

The first-worst, of course, being the guy who comes in afterward to clean the animal cage that is a public mens' room.

Maybe that's why my bowl of pasta cost $25.

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