So I walked into the restroom at work today and I saw my co-worker, Keith, standing at the urinal and flushing it.
Familiar enough, only it wasn’t the once-and-done deal that most of us do. He was just standing there, hitting the handle over and over again, and filling the restroom with the near-deafening sound of blasting water.
Now, I know who Keith is, but I don’t know him. I’ve just seen him around, an old, cagey guy with a big beard. You know the type: the ones who mutters a grudging “hi” to you in the hallway without making eye contact, as if such salutations distract them from some secret diabolical scheme to take over the world.
So, apprehensive as I was, I walked by and managed a lightly sarcastic remark: “Gee, I think you’ve flushed yours, Keith.”
Then Keith turns to me and goes, “Well, how else is it going to get down to the water fountain?”