We have a new addition to our club- an attendant in the ladies' restroom. I despise the little troll. Seriously, does the men's room attendant shake down the DJ and the bouncers?
1) We're staff, you little wretch. We kinda knew in advance that we would be at work for an eight-hour shift and came prepared with assorted novelties like lotion, breath mints and perfume. Even if we didn't, that is why we have a housemom.
2) We're staff/. Shake down someone other than your co-workers.
3) You suck. The soap goes on our HANDS (as opposed to all over our wristwatch). Your soap sucks too. What, couldn't you find some pure lye to dump perfume in? My hands feel like I've been shucking corn.
Goodness only knows how, but I have managed the complicated task of washing my own hands for many years. It is beyond redundant to have some little beast make the task more difficult and annoy the piss out of me, and expect to be tipped for the priviledge. First she took the towels. Fine; I ignored her and used the soap supplied by the club. Then she took the soap. Finally, she took the fucking toilet paper (management replaced it though). What's next, lock the door and charge admission? Clearly the subtle approach isn't working, so now she's bluntly telling us that she works on tips. Works? Excuse me? Looting a bathroom of its supplies is not work. The housemom is bringing in proper bathroom supplies for us and we've resorted to going to the restroom in packs. I'm a great tipper but, by god, I'm putting my foot down. Not even a nickel for the bus.



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