On Saturday, I went out with my family for my mother's birthday. We went to a little restaurant in Selkirk. I hate going to restaurants like this one because I've seen the movie 'Waiting' 13 times.
Anyway, our meals are fine and the beer is beer. I excuse myself and go to use the washroom. I can't help but notice an unusually terrible smell upon entering the washroom. I turn the corner and there it is: a toilet bowl smeared with feces. I gag, but decide I should take a picture to show the staff. I snap the photo (gagged again), head upstairs and show the woman at the front desk. She puts her arms down on the table and drops her head into them.
"You would not believe how much that happens," she said.
I don't know how to respond to that.
Then, (and this is my favorite part) without mentioning that anyone is going to clean this up or if I can use another washroom, she asks me if I'm planning to still use the toilet.
"Eh, I don't think so," I say, politely as I can.
Then she starts writing something down on a piece of paper, which I assume is a gift receipt or something. Now, of course I wasn't ACTUALLY expecting a gift receipt from this experience, but you never know. I mean, a paying customer needed to use your facilities and couldn't. I'd accommodate that, I'm just saying.
Anyway, she writes "Out of Order" and asks me to put it on the door downstairs.
So, instead of cleaning up the washroom, you render it useless to every male customer in the restaurant? Sure! Why not? And of course! Get the customer to do it! After all, he's already been down there and experienced it, no need subjecting two people to that odor.
Ok, maybe I'm being too harsh. This is probably the work of a chronic poo-smearer that's well known in the Selkirk community. She was probably just calling the cops to go and round him up so he could clean up his mess. Cause' who wants to clean up somebody else's poo?
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