I will be the first to admit, my dear Cake Readers, that I, like half the English-speaking population out there, have a bit of a love affair with my cell phone. It’s with me almost everywhere I go: tucked under the pillow at night, laid by the side of the bathtub, slipped into my beach bag, chilling in the cup holder of the boat—hardly anything is off limits.
Notice I said hardly. That is because, my friends, there is one final place in the world where my phone will not make an appearance. It is the one last hold-out, the final frontier of inappropriateness which I can not—ney, will not—cross.
I speak of . . . the public restroom.
In a time not too long ago, a public restroom was a place where one went, took care of business, and went on their way. There was no eye contact, no chatting with strangers (with the obvious exception of asking for a square to spare when necessary, of course), and certainly no subjecting fellow restroom goers to the every detail of your life.
But that has all changed. That last, final holdout of etiquette has not only been breached, it has been stomped to the ground and set ablaze. I ask you: How in the name of all that’s sacred did we come to the point in our civilization where someone thought it was okay to bring their cell phone into the public restroom and actually use it?!
Only yesterday I was in the restroom at HomeGoods and some mutton-headed idiot came in, chatting away with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She continued through my flushing of the commode, of my hand washing, and my overly loud hand drying. She continued through her own business (wink, wink), through her own flushing, and through her own halfhearted one-handed finger washing. As I glared daggers at her, for the first time in my life considering confronting a perfect stranger in public and illuminating their horrible misdeed, she breezily pushed on past me, never pausing in her discussion.
Oh dear Lord in heaven, what have we come to??
WHEN did it become okay to broadcast your business, not to mention the business of others, to whatever god-forsaken soul is on the other end of the line? When was it no longer an embarrassment to allow those you are having a phone conversation with to hear you enter the echoing confines of the restroom, to relieve yourself (which by the way, can not help but be an audible task), and to flush the toilet?
As far as I’m concerned, talking on the cell phone in a public restroom is tantamount to bringing a recorder, a microphone, and an audience with you. Why, oh why would you do that to your fellow restroom goers? What happened to modesty, discretion, and oh, I don’t know—common sense?
And by the way, what is so unbelievably important that you can’t call that person back in a few minutes? Or that you can’t wait outside until such time that this incredibly vital conversation is completed?
Is the person you are talking to about to be forced to walk the plank by Somalian pirates, and your ill-advised Big Gulp of hours earlier is in coming back to haunt you? Are you attempting to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records by having the longest uninterrupted conversation via cell phone ever recorded? Are you trying to prove to the world that you are the most vile, unrepentantly rude person to have ever walked the earth? Really – that was the one you were going for? Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded!
Okay, so rant mostly over. If any of you are guilty of this, I beg you: please, in the future, have a teeny, tiny care for the unnamed men and women who are unlucky enough to have to use a public restroom in the first place: The ONLY call that has any business there is nature's!
So, am I the only one who is offended by this? What is your pet peeve?
I made the most fabulous 18th century recipe this week that I was planning on sharing, but in light of the topic, I felt if best to save the Chocolate Puffs for next week ;) See you then!