The lovely wife and I were visiting daughters in suburban Maryland, which almost always involves a stop at some shopping mall or another. It was lunchtime, and I offered to treat the gang to Italian food at a sit-down, “real” restaurant just off the food court.
When we were done, we all visited the little rooms to “check out the plumbing.” I did my business and approached the sink to wash up. I noticed they had a soap pump on the counter, just like the one we have at home, but this one had a small laminated sign taped to its front. “Soap pump is finicky,” it read. “Be very careful.”