Rules Are Rules

“I’m sorry, sir, but our bathrooms are only for our patrons.” “Well, I patronize this restaurant all of the time, I am just not eating here today. And, I really need to use the bathroom, so, if you could please, get out of my way.” (Funny how I talk in rhymes even when I don’t intend to.) Not only did he not move, but another employee joined his side for reinforcement. “Look, fellows, it’s up to you; I am just out on a walk and my stomach suddenly feels upset and I am quickly reaching the point of no return. Either you can let your silly rule slide this one time and get out of my way, or, you can stand by your silly rule and ruin the lunch of the patrons that are here today. But you better decide fast, because I am not going to last.” “Sorry, sir, rules are rules.” Now I and, my guess would be, about twenty-five other people, no longer frequent that establishment. Even though I was now covered in – well, you know – I agreed to stay while the police were on their way; after all, my emergency was now over and all I needed was to get home and take a shower. The police officer was very sympathetic and understanding. “There is nothing I can really do here. Next time, I suggest you let him use your bathroom.” “Aren’t you going to even make him clean up this mess?!” “No, I think you earned the right to do that yourself. This man is sick and needs to go home and take care of himself. A little compassion for his situation on your part could have avoided this whole mess.” I politely declined her invitation to drive me home – I didn’t want to mess up her patrol car – and walked the remaining two miles home in soiled pants, but with some sense of dignity in my stride. Maybe, sometimes, rules shouldn’t be rules. Or, at least, enforced with some sort of common sense.