For the backstory on this, skip below.
I needed a sign. But more than a sign, I needed the right sign; something that would speak to my audience of young and middle-aged JBCs in a language they could easily understand. And it had to be tactful. Non-confrontational. Something that wouldn’t drive someone absolutely mad with rage, driving them to tear the signs down. I needed something with staying power.
A few months ago, I came up with exactly what I needed, and today was its moment of glory. What a risky operation, but it had to happen. Under cover of darkness, my instruments of poddy propaganda were printed and swiped from the office laserjet. I had to prepare each sign with double sided tape, carefully folding them atop one another in such a way that I could quickly and efficiently slap them onto any given surface. And then, what if there were patrons? What if I went plowing into that bathroom and there was a full house; me standing there helplessly with an armful of posters? I would have no cover. Surely I would be compromised. It would need to be perfect. I would need instincts, the right moment, and luck. I gambled on 11AM. And it was on.
I deployed it to the front and back of every stall door, the mirror behind the sinks, and to the door to the very restroom that I had been victimized in only hours prior.
Will it tame the Jabe? Will it last? Only time will tell. The Jabe has many weapons but the retaliatory salvos have been launched. Today is the last day of bacterial tyranny and the first day of the handwashing revolution! LET IT BEGIN! VIVE LE TOUR!