It Wasn't Me

On Friday night, we ate dinner at a nearby Greek restaurant.  I excused myself from the table to use the restroom.  I walked into the single-stall ladies room to discover that the person before me had thrown a wad of paper towels into the toilet.

I didn’t want to flush the toilet because (thanks to several years in the restaurant industry) I knew that the toilet would clog or overflow.  So, I headed toward the kitchen and caught our waiter.  I explained that someone – but not me –threw paper towels into the toilet and I didn’t want to flush it.  The waiter shook his head and said, “Okay, one moment.”

He then turned to the kitchen of five male cooks and waiters and loudly explained the problem in Greek, a language that I don’t understand.  I awkwardly stood near the door.  I thought I had clearly stated that I was not at fault, but I somehow think that was lost in translation because the entire kitchen staff stopped and looked at me and shook their heads when my waiter finished explaining the situation. 

A cook then stepped around the corner of the counter and said, “Don’t worry.  I fix the problem.”  I again declared my innocence.  “It wasn’t me!"  But, somehow, that claim fell on deaf (or Greek) ears.

The cook took a few steps toward a door in the floor that led to a cellar.  He repeatedly yelled, “Jesus”, into the darkened hole.  Jesus, another restaurant employee, climbed out of the cellar.  The cook explained the situation again, but this time in Spanish, another language that I don’t understand.  Mid-conversation I hear the word, “caca,” one of the few Spanish words that I do know.  “Caca” was definitely a word I did NOT use! 

“No!  No!  I know that word.  Not caca,” I said, dumbstruck that I said the word to strangers and in an attempt to defend myself.  “Paper towels.  Paper towels in the toilet.”

The men just looked at me.  I then waved my arms and proclaimed, “I DIDN’T DO IT!” 

Jesus nodded at me and snapped a pair of rubber gloves over his hands.  The cook laughed and said, “Don’t worry.  We fix it.  He’s toilet doctor.”  Jesus then strode by me.

Next time, I will just use the men’s room.