Do wash your hands
She came out of the cubicle, glanced sideways at me as I tried to figure out why I had a large pimple emerging between my eyebrows, and then she walked out of the washroom without a word. My jaw dropped open. She hadn’t washed her hands! She had been in that cubicle when I came in a couple of minutes ago so I knew she definitely needed to wash those hands but somehow that hadn’t occurred to her. Or maybe it had and she didn’t care. How was I supposed to touch the door handle as I left the washroom? I wiped down the handle before I opened the door, feeling like a paranoid germophobic patient.
I thought I would forget about the incident in time but a few days later, I saw the girl as I was returning to the office building in the evening. She was leaving with another girl and I cringed as they walked past me. Worst of all, I had to touch the door handle to close the door behind me. I have never been introduced to her as I think she is a temp who works for one of the many firms in the building but there is a chance that one day I will have to speak to her and all I will be able to see is a large single-celled, prokaryote microorganism (yes, I resorted to Wikipedia).
I’ve seen her a few other times in the past couple of weeks and every time I do, I wonder how many other people in the building have similar filthy habits, how many germ infected door handles or table surfaces I’ve touched, but I take a deep breath and walk past her. I’ll go mad otherwise. We are programmed from a young age not to think about these things but after seeing so-called professional adults act like they never sat through a health education class, something switches on upstairs that could send a weaker mortal over the edge. Let’s not think about bus or tube journeys home, trolleys in supermarkets, arms of chairs in restaurants, lift buttons…
So people, please wash your hands. If not for your sake, for our sanity.