Yesterday, I had a rather disturbing experience. I had just finished spraying the walls of the urinal and was heading over to wash up when something caught my eye: a bandage lying on the counter right next to the sink. It was one of those finger bandages and it was still in excellent shape, as if someone slipped it off like a wedding band to soap up and then forgot to slide it back on.
Usually, in the case of a wedding band, I would alert the Human Resources department and then they would send out a mass email letting everyone know about the ring and where it was found. But that didn’t seem appropriate for a bandage. I mean, what would it say?
BANDAGE FOUND IN 6TH FLOOR MEN’S RESTROOM
PLEASE CONTACT JACKIE AT EXT 342 TO CLAIM.
Then, when you’d call, it’d be like:
“This is Jackie.”
“Jackie? You got my bandage?”
“We might. Can you describe it?”
“Well, it’s pink, with a small piece of gauze set in the center.”
“Okay, any other distinguishing marks?”
“Uh, there might be some blood on it.”
“Good enough for me. You can come pick it up at my desk.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you! I’ve been worried sick over this.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I lost a bunion pad once.”
Bandage Abandoners suck.
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