a story from today. let’s call it “the decision“.

took a trip to the men’s room like i probably do half a dozen times a day — small capacity i guess. step up to the plate, as it were, and as i unzip there’s a small pop. what?

so i look down into the urinal and see the button to my pants sitting there on top of the blue rubber urinal mat. apart from the fact that i’ve never really understood what those are for — do they aid in stream dampening maybe? — i stand there simultaneously very aware of three things. one, it’s only two thirds of the way through the work day and i just lost my means of keeping my pants up. two, i still need to pee, but i also need that button back. and three. there’s a guy next to me.

so my split second decision making may not be sound in this situation, but my first concern was saving face in front of the guy next to me. in typical male restroom fashion, i had already made the hundred percent conscious effort not to turn toward him in even the slightest way while approaching, and therefore had no idea who it was. could have been the president of the company for all i could tell. so the ‘reach in and grab it quick!’ option was out. but so was the ‘pretend nothing happened’ route, because of reasons 1 and 2a above. tricky.

in my wisdom and due to what i saw as the fortunate circumstance of the button being on the upper left of the sloping urinal bowl mat, i settled on a plan. aim far right and minimize button infection while maintaining composure next to the possibly-important fellow at work next to me. stall, maybe shake off a little longer than normal, and wait for him to finish before me. flush, rinsing away the contaminants and relying on the urinal mat to keep the button from going down the drain — maybe that’s why it’s there? — and hope upon hope that i can grab it and wash it and my hands very thoroughly and quickly, not to mention before anyone else comes in or my pants fall down.

proving myself a lucky and intelligent strategist, that phase of the plan went smoothly and according to my scheme. of course, i still had to walk back to my desk with my hands in my pockets to prop up my jeans, and with the button in my pocket to be dealt with later. not having a needle and thread handy back there either, which perhaps i should bring to keep in a drawer in readiness for the next trouser incident, i was forced into using a binder clip to fasten the waistband closed for the next few hours, and subsequently hoping my untucked shirt wouldn’t drift up and give away the fact that my pants were being held together the same way as the monthly report i was carrying back from the copy room. thusly, i made it through the rest of the day. and with a few more washings of the hands, to be extra safe.

naturally, though, once home to my seamstress tools and the privacy needed to remedy the problem, i realize a small tragedy. the problem wasn’t the threads coming undone as i had assumed, but the plastic center of the button itself having broken (hence the popping sound i gather), rendering it completely useless and my unsanitary misadventure completely unnecessary. not to mention i’ll have to steal a button off some old coat from my closet before wearing these pants again.

good decision, brian. real good. plus, now i have a strange urge to look up the real purpose of urinal mats.