I hate misunderstandings. They make me more uncomfortable than anything else in this world.
Today, I went into the restroom at work and, let me tell you, it stank something awful.
I don’t know what happened in there just minutes earlier, and I have no desire to know such information. Yet, the culprit of the “doings” (“attack” seemed like a more appropriate word to use here, but I opted to keep things light and playful) had already vanished, so the bathroom was empty, yet still awful-smelling.
Luckily, I didn’t have to be in the bathroom more than about 60 seconds—just long enough to say “farewell” to the coffee/water I drank over the course of the morning.
Holding my breath the entire time to avoid sniffing unwanted/contaminated air, I finished up at the urinal quickly and proceeded to wash my hands, as I always do, with soap and water.
Just as I’m washing my hands, a man enters the restroom. Instantly, he smells the awful mess that somebody had left behind. Who looks guilty? Perhaps the only person in the restroom, caught red-handed (literally- the almond-scented soap was red, so my hands were red).
“Look man, I don’t know who did this. I was just urinating and now I’m washing my hands…”
He looks me up and down, grunts, and saunters over to the urinal.
Until next time,
Michael J. Erickson, CEO & Co-Founder
