Dead Seriously.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written about the bathroom my company shares with a few other firms on our floor. Recently, the management has installed a new soap dispenser on the wall adjacent to the sinks–it’s kind of a distant and inconvenient location, and kind of a stupid addition, given that there are perfectly find soap dispensers right next to the faucets on the counter. So the other day, my boss came back into the office after using the restroom, and, having just noticed the new dispenser for the first time, asked us which we use (we were all sitting the same room). Two of my coworkers and I all said that we just use the old one, but the other guy said that, because he doesn’t like the kind of soap the building management uses, he just comes back into our break room and washes his hands their with our own hand soap.

—Say what?! It sounded like you just said that you don’t wash your hands after you pee!

To clarify, after doing his business, my coworker: opens both the bathroom door and our main office door (which both have handles you must use), and turns on the water in our kitchen.

All while he has potty hands.

There was a momentary silence as we all contemplated the implications of what our coworker had just revealed. Food. Keyboards. Chairs. Clothes. Books. Car. Children. Grandparents. Cider. Churches. Very small rocks. Everything. All covered in a coworker’s pee. For a second, I thought we might have a replay of that scene in Stand By Me where the fat kid vomits and everyone else loses it. Then we tried to crack a few jokes, so we could “nicely” explain how horrendously disgusted we all were, but deep down inside, none of us could muster the strength and we all just fell silent again. He just said he didn’t see what the big deal was.

This reminded me of a similar, but not identical, experience I had when I was a missionary in Finland. As was commonplace, my companion and I were eating dinner in the home of some local ward members, and I had to excuse myself to use the bathroom during dinner. After doing my business, I came back to the table and continued eating and participating in the conversation. However, after about a minute and a half, my companion said, in a very clear voice for everyone to hear,

“Elder, you didn’t wash your hands after using the bathroom.”

There was instant and utter silence from everyone as we just stared at each other for a moment. At first, I thought he was either joking, because a) I had in fact washed my hands, and b) because the restroom was not near the dinner table, there was no way he could have known one way or the other whether I had washed them or not. So I just said

“Huh?”

“Well, Elder, sometimes you don’t wash your hands after you use the bathroom.”

Apparently he was not kidding.

This was one of those times where you know that nothing you say will help you. Deny it? Admit it? Either way, you’re guilty of something, and the embarrassment meter was through the roof. The poor family eating dinner with us just sat silently and looked straight down at their plates. They were probably trying to decide whether or not the “nourish and strengthen our bodies” part of the blessing on the food was still in effect, or if the salad I had just passed them was no longer divinely protected. My guess is they were also promising themselves to never, ever, invite the Elders over for dinner again.

I was so shocked by what my comp had said, that I didn’t even bother trying to say that I had washed my hands or otherwise debate it with him. I just stood up slowly, went back to the bathroom, and washed my hands again. I was so angry for the remainder of the dinner that I honestly don’t even remember the rest of the evening.

We never spoke about it again. He probably interpreted my silence as a confession of guilt and a commitment to washing my hands after pooping. In reality, I just couldn’t figure out a way of talking about it in a way that didn’t involve me yelling and screaming at him for being a complete git. To this day, I have no idea how my comp had come to the conclusion that I don’t wash my hands, or more importantly, why he had decided to make such an accusation while we were dinner guests. I really liked the guy, liked serving with him, and never had any other argument or issues with him…so I got over it.

Anything like this ever happen to you? Do tell.