You don't want to flush that

3pm. Focaccia time. Today it consists of 3/4ths bread, and 1/4th tuna with cheese, tomato sauce and basil. Not bad. The summer sun beats hot air against my face as sweat pours down my arm pits. I am sitting on the same street bench in front of X Gallery; the main mall in the bustling center of the central shopping street in Geneva, Switzerland.

After having finished my junior year of university in the U.S, I achieved what had been my second highest goal to date, an internship with Z Bank. Though my first life goal was a job in the U.S., I was quiet content with where I had ended up so far. A teenage girl, in the shadow banking capital of the world, eating her Focaccia.

Despite my current position and juicy salary, my lifelong financial drought blocked me from spending $25 on a salad for lunch every day, like the rest of the interns around me. So, there I was, having my daily slice of European pizza (Focaccia) by myself. The 16hours + at the office depleted my interpersonal capabilities and the pizza was the highlight of my day … some could say my only friendly reprieve from corporate life … and perhaps my only friend.

Such an interesting bench to have lunch though. The street I was sitting on had more Louboutin heels touching it per square meter than puppies, and there were quite a few puppies frolicking on the pavement. Bankers, bankers’ clients and European old money made up the majority of the demographics of this street. Not too many people of my nationality were present on the street, though the supporting character of this story was miraculously from my home country as well.

Little did I know, today was going to be special. No, it wasn’t because I was wearing my favorite office blouse which I bought at my favorite thrift shop store in NYC, it was because today was destiny! Today I had forgotten (later realizing I hadn’t forgotten but left it on the bench) my diary. It was not a sparkling pink diary, nor did it say ‘diary’ on the front page. My baby face already said enough about my age, so when I was purchasing my sacred notebook, I had decided to go for one with an elegant pitch-black notebook to hide my insecurities and life wonders. That lunch break, I could not write down my thoughts between bite and chew. For this reason, I decided to indulge in an ice cream after my focaccia. But I forgot, stress plus lactose was too much of a bomb for my body to tolerate, which is the exact reason why I was forced to run to look for a ‘toilette’ where I could innocently yet guiltily dispose of my, by now, composted focaccia.

As I rushed into the mall bathroom, I almost inadvertently overheard the woman in the bathroom stall next to me making an effort to flush something down the toilette. The woman continuously kept repeating to herself, in my mother tongue nonetheless, “Alright, this is all going to disappear now, right? Right!?” as she kept pushing. I laughed internally as I wished my ‘issue’ flushed and disappeared soon too, without leaving too much of a trace if you know what I mean. Except, as I soon learned, I would be excited that her issue had never flushed.

As I stepped out of the stall to wash my hands, the lady in the stall next to me exited as well, and even though she acknowledged my presence, she quickly walked straight out of the bathroom without washing her hands. I guess she did not feel that she needed to wash her hands after leaving her little ‘present’ in the bathroom.

As I finished washing my hands and turned to the dryer, I saw a single 100 euro bill laying at the door of the stall where the woman came from. My lucky day I thought, maybe tomorrow I will at a $25 salad with my colleagues! As I kneeled down to pick up the bill, I pushed the stall door open slightly to free my new found wealth from the clutches of the evil door and WOW! What on earth!? A bag full of money was protruding from the toilette, with 500 euro bills littered all over the bathroom stall. I quickly took as much as I could, my heart beating out of my chest. I now finally had a cold sweat running down my body, finally I thought something to combat the hot sweat of the summer fun. I couldn’t believe it!

After stuffing my bag and clothes full of money, I came back home, hid the cash and came back to work, pretended everything was normal. I used part of the 20,000 I made that day to start manufacturing black diaries with an internal pink sparkly cover, one that is for you and not necessarily the rest of the world to see. It’s okay to want to keep some things for yourself and to yourself; just like I’ll now share what I think is a fact, ice cream is always a good idea, even for those who are lactose intolerant ;).