The Bathroom Attendant

I've never understood the mentality of hiring a bathroom attendant at your bar. I'd rather walk into a bar bathroom and see two guys fighting each other with knives than see a bathroom attendant standing there. At least I wouldn't have to tip the two guys fighting. I suspect that about half of the bathroom attendants I run into are freelancing. What I mean is that they walk into the bar with a tackle box hidden in their jacket, and then they pop it open in the men's restroom and set up a tip jar next to their multi-colored bottles of cologne and soaps. I never take any mints or cigarettes from the bathroom attendant, so all I get from him is a squirt of soap on my hand and a paper towel when I'm down washing them. It's not unlike getting a regular coffee from a barista who pumps the coffee, hands it over the counter, and then looks at his tip jar. I don't think I should have to give you a dollar if you're not really doing much for me. The guy who makes my sandwich at Burger King does a lot more work than my barista, and I don't give him anything. But I feel guilty not tipping the bathroom attendant since I think his job must be so depressing, so I always give him a dollar. It's such a racket, the bathroom attendant.

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