Goin’ to a Poh-Poh

Was at the POH yesterday.  You know the POH?  It’s where you can mail packages and get stamps.  It’s spelled P.O. but pronounced POH.  Used in a sentence: Going to a POH-POH* today to witness a bloody headwound, do you need anything while I’m there – boxes or packing tape??

Because that’s exactly what happened yesterday.  Bloody headwound all over the front mat of the POH so that you couldn’t get in EITHER of the glass doors without getting bloody headwound all over your shoes.

I saw the ambulance and the firetruck completely blocking the parking lot entrance when I got there – and thus parked across the street and walked over to the POH.  (But I do have to mention that I love those ingenious folks whose cars are stacking up in the street waiting, waiting for the firetruck and ambulance to – er – GO already so they can park.  Love those folks.)

And so while I didn’t actually witness the bloody headwound in progress, I knew about it because…well, aside from the literal POOL of blood on the door mat…a woman walking behind me was talking to the ambulance-guy-who-had-just-closed-the-back-doors-of-his-vehicle, “Oh no!  Did she fall and hit her head?!  I hope she’s ok.”

Yes, I hope she’s ok too.  Also?  This pool of bright red stuff here on the entrance mat?  That can’t be sanitary.  Can we get a cleanup in Aisle Three??

At which point a disgruntled worker comes out with a mop and bucket that clearly came straight from its standing location in the men’s bathroom.  I don’t blame her one bit for her disgruntlement because the uniform pants ARE unflattering.  And then there’s the matter of “other duties as assigned” which include mopping up bloody headwounds.

So now we’re stacked up three deep trying to figure out how to get in the door without overly exposing our shoes to bloody headwound, when a firefighter comes up and picks up a stack of “used” napkins off the ground.  Without gloves.

Then he proceeds to offer to “wash” the mat off for disgruntled worker; She promptly accepted (surprise, surprise).  So instead of being forced to do a graceful gazelle HOP! like others in line for the POH, I wait until the bloody mat is removed and do more of a giant leap forward for mankind.

As I’m coming out of the POH, I see water running into the gutter on the other side of the parking lot, and the firefighter (still no gloves, disgruntled worker still no gloves) plopping the soaking mat back down in front of the building, which was then further swiped at disheartedly by disgruntled worker and her dirty bathroom water. 

Uhhh….ok, back when I worked in a leather tanning factory (I’ll just let that one sit for a while) I was required to attend the world-renowned DuPont Safety Training Observation Program (or STOP for short, nifty no?) and I happen to know that NONE of this should be happening.  This is completely against all protocol.  Further, washing someone’s blood down a public gutter??  Gaaack!!! 

And this is exactly why your mother is always telling you NOT to put your purse in the gutter and then put it on the kitchen table.  The bottom of that purse could be FULL of who-knows-what. 

*And yes, I could have made “an 80’s song for every moment in life” play here with “Going to a Go-Go,” that Miracles song which was covered by The Rolling Stones on their 1982 album Still Life.  But I won’t, because I thought we agreed we’d lay off with that game until you got better at it.  Way better. 

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