A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to a bar with friends for a weekend. They sat down, ate, listened to music and went out to smoke. And we have to say that the jackets we handed over to the closet, which is in the tambour, where the guards are standing.

Well, in fact, while I stood in the line, comes out of the bar madam in a state of moderate alcoholic intoxication. He walks toward me, bends to my ear and says:



- Young man, there, that is, in the toilet blurred



I thought at first that it was a claim to me, like I was blasting the whole gallon with the roots, and I answered something of the class, I am not me and the hut is not mine. However, she needed me to clean it myself or call a cleaner.

Only then did I catch that I was dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, like all the guards nearby. After my phrase that I am not working here, she, in my opinion, even turned red.



And it would be nothing if, after I told this story to my friends, I didn’t start to be notified about the state of all the sortings in the district, such as: “Friend, I’m calling you from the McDonald’s toilet, here everything is normal, it’s not blurred” or “Base, it’s Third, the point in the Zodiac Center is not removed.”