Editor's Note: Today's post comes from The Flint Skinny. Though he has his own blog, he decided to answer my call for guest bloggers and contribute to The Dirty Burrito. Below is his rollercoaster of a rant on bathroom attendants. I'm still not sure why he chose to spell "fuck" as "f*ck" and leave "shit" alone, but I decided to let it fly. In any case, I hope you enjoy. And make sure you check out his blog. He has the self-proclaimed "number one site on the Internet for stolen humor."
For many years I have wanted to share my ideas about bathroom attendants. My general feeling was an outright hatred for any man who demands money for something I frequently do on my own. Being the brilliant author that I am, I wanted to do a little research before spewing hatred all over this peaceful blog. This is where the problems began. Once I learned more about their role, I could no longer decide exactly how I felt about these men who work behind the latrines.
Tip for a haircut? Sure, I would f*ck my hair up. Tip a waitress? Obviously they would never let me in the kitchen to get my own food, and buyer’s remorse would lead me to steal someone else's food. Tip a bathroom attendant? Why the hell would I do that? I frequently go to the bathroom in public places and manage to wash and dry my hands with very little difficulty. The last thing I need is some guy expecting me to hand over some cash purely because he didn't let me turn the faucet, squirt the soap and grab the paper towel for myself.
I am a big boy; I can do all of these things unassisted. This guy is not only the least useful person in the bar, one I would much rather replace with an additional bartender, but he is also a nuisance. If anything, he makes me want to skip washing my hands altogether so that I can escape the bathroom with the same amount of money with which I entered.
Unfortunately I am not willing to do that, and anyone who has been around me for more than an hour or so is well aware that I have the bladder control of a puppy that is always excited. This means that if you get some booze in me, I am going to be visiting our dear facility friend many times in a night. No way is this shitkeeper getting my booze money.
Let's step back from my rage for a minute. There are a couple of different types of bathroom jockeys, some not as bad as others. First, there is the older man at the high class establishment. I don't mind an attendant at the Ritz Carlton or other five star water closets. The grandpas that frequent these establishments most likely take a long time to squeeze a few drops out, so they might like some company. Also, they are at risk for falling over and could need a little assistance.
Next, there is the really outgoing guy working the nightclub scene. Clubs like to give off the feeling of importance as a way to justify their outrageous drink prices, so this at least has some legitimacy.
The last, and certainly worst, is the guy just trying to make a bunch of money at the expense of the wasted kids. You find these guys at random ass bars that really have no business acting classy. These are typically the only jackasses that will actually make some comment regarding a tip. You've probably seen each of these different types, and it's this third one that really developed your hatred for bathroom attendants much like he did for me.
This is where I stood a week ago before I began this endeavor. That was before I realized that a head shepherd's main purpose is not actually to hand me paper towel. It also isn't to ensure that you have fresh breath, cheap cologne, or a loosey. Their predominant role is to ensure the working order of the bathroom.
Have you noticed that most bathrooms with toilet tenders are typically pretty clean? You don't find the stray toilet paper surrounding the john or paper towel scattered in the general area of the trash can. You don't have to worry about the bathroom smelling like puke because, rest assured, your trusty toileteer also serves as a detriment to drunken guys that assume it's appropriate to hurl inside instead of outdoors by the dumpster where they belong. In fact, I cannot recall more than a few occasions in which I was pissed at the condition of a tended thrown room.
You also don't have stalls being tied up by people blowing lines of coke off shit seats or deflowering a classy lady (unless the money is right for the attendant). For those of you who had the privilege of spending time in Ann Arbor, can you imagine if the bathrooms at Rick's American Nightmare or Touchdowns actually had clean bathrooms? That would have easily been worth a couple bucks to me.
If it seems like I have changed my stance, fear not. I still hate Blow Pop distributing towel hoarders. My reasoning, however, has changed. I realize now that their purpose is essentially that of a bathroom butler. They keep the potty pristine, the line orderly and the stalls for proper use.
Last time I checked, however, the Fresh Prince never tipped "G." This seems like a cost that should be paid by the bar, not the patrons who are already paying a high cost to make their friends more tolerable and their hookups more attractive. But most bars don't pay these caretakers a penny. Bathroom attendants often times are not employed by the bar whatsoever and in some cases actually pay an establishment to let them set up shop. This is where I return to pure hatred.
F*ck bars for making me pay for their cleaning staff. That's f*cking horseshit. I don't hate the people that are bathroom attendants; I loathe the position of bathroom attendant. I hate any bar who allows someone to work purely out of expectation of me throwing them a dollar for blocking my way to the motion sensor operated paper town dispenser.
The path of my emotional rollercoaster was that of a cursive "o." I came in hating bathroom attendants, stopped and looped back around to their favor, but eventually found a different path of hatred to take me out along the same line. I will continue to tip these people no more than half of the time I use the bathroom and nothing will ever change that. Screw bathroom attendants.
For further reading about what almost changed my mind, check out this interview with a Vegas bathroom attendant.