Posts Tagged ‘hand sanitizer’

A reminder why you always wash your hands after cash transactions

November 24, 2009

A couple of hours ago, I had to pee.  I could buffer this confession with a euphemism, like, “I had to use the bathroom,” or “I had to do one of my little jobs,” but the “pee” is the crux of the story.  So I went to pee.  We have a lovely bathroom at work; matte pewter fixtures, purple walls, a large basin sink.  It’s very clean.  You see, “clean” is also important to the story, which is why it is being emphasized.  I went to “pee” in the “clean” bathroom.  We are all on the same page.

I settled in, content with my lot in life that I get to pee daily in such a clean, purple bathroom.  Mid-pee, I heard something rustle behind me, sort of like a leaf gently shaken loose from a branch in fall, and wondered what that could be.  I turned to look, and to my horror, that the neatly folded five dollar bill I’d had in my back pocket was now floating in the same toilet bowl into which I was relieving myself.  There was nothing I could do.  The pee had hit the bowl, as the saying doesn’t go.  I briefly said a prayer of thanks that this was not a “big job” I was turning out and finished my business.

Dramatic Recreation of events

Dramatic Re-Creation of Events

I wiped, stood, then considered my options with my pants pooled around my favorite black high heeled boots.  Flush the bill?  Throw out the money with the peewater as the saying doesn’t go?  Maybe if it were one dollar, but this was a five, and I’m a cheap bitch.  I was afraid to leave the room, lest someone come in and pee on my money*.  Like MacGyver, I searched the bathroom for something with which I could extract the money from the potty.  Unlike MacGyver, I came up blank and made a decision I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy:  I went in with my bare hands.  Actually, first I did a dance I like to call “I have to stick my hand in peewater”, which looks a lot like the “I just found a spider in my comforter” dance, only with the “I just did a shot of cheap tequila” face.  Then I went in with my bare hands.

I think at that point I blacked out, because the next thing I remember was washing the money in the sink.  My pants were up, the toilet was flushed, and the only indicator of my crisis situation was the cash being rinsed.    I grabbed a stack of paper towels, laid the bill on them, then covered it with another stack of paper towels while I washed my hands for twenty minutes, then soaped up and washed the sink, then washed my hands again before putting on half a bottle of hand sanitizer.

So the question is this:  what do I do with the bill?  Clearly I can’t touch it again without gloves; it’s currently still wadded up in the paper towels inside of a plastic bag.  I would also not feel comfy pawning it off on the kindly Indian woman at the Subway, half because I like her and half because I don’t want her to make anyone’s sandwich after she’s touched that five.  I’ve agonized over my options, and I’m polling on what it’s come down to:

*If I had a nickel for every time I’ve had to say this–well, I probably wouldn’t have to fish pee-covered bills from the toilet.

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