One of the reasons I began this blog was to begin a discussion surrounding contemporary issues of global importance.

So today’s post will focus on restaurant bathrooms.

Restaurateurs of the world take note: if you have the pleasure of counting me among your guests, I WILL be checking out your bathroom. I don’t know the statistics, but I’m gonna say that between the compulsive hand washers, makeup toucher uppers and IBS sufferers in the establishment, I’ll be among the 59.97% of your guests who do so. I’m also among the 6.82% of us who open the door with a paper towel and leave it on the floor where you’ve omitted to include a conveniently placed waste basket.

disgust, dining
Worst of all, is the realization that not only I will be touching scuzzy taps, but your employees will as well.

 

Patrons of the world, how often have we been duped by the sophisticated decor, simple elegant touches and creative plating of an establishment, only to be sent to a dank, moldy basement to –how do I put this delicately—vacate the contents of our lower torsos?

I once came across a rat on my way back up the stairs!  You know who you are (Mr.Nibbles).

Once we’ve made the journey to Middle Earth, how about some fresh wall paper? Care to replace the cracked toilet seat and invest in something higher grade than the same bubblegum pink detergent used in elementary schools across the country?

Then there are the dirty looking taps that make you wonder whether you might be better off keeping the potential E.coli on your hands than touching the mystery cocktail of microbes that surely inhabit them.

Worst of all, is the realization that not only I will be touching them, but your employees will as well. The same ones who will be preparing and serving my food.

Now, I’m not hating on the chip truck that bothers to rent a port-a-potty. When you bought your hot dog, that’s the level of dining you signed up for.

What really grinds my gears is when you want to decorate your dining room and charge according to one standard and hold your restrooms to another. If I’m not comfortable marching my $30 shoes through the puddle of mystery liquid (please be from the sink, please be from the sink) and toilet paper on your bathroom floor, we’ve got a problem.

Common people, it doesn’t have to be fancy. I’m not expecting a bidet in every bistro. But would it hurt to hire a guy with a water gun?

Go ahead and grab a broom. ‘Cause I’m not dropping the paper towel doorknob-n-ditch act until you clean up yours.

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