Several years ago, I heard a comedian refer to the, designed with men in mind, porcelain appliances that hang vertically on the walls of men's public rest rooms as goat feeders.
Some years later, while working at the Love Field Airport in Dallas, I mistakenly went into an occupied room whose door label did not match my gender. One of my duties was to see that all the rest rooms were clean and properly stocked with supplies. I had assigned one of our female workers to check the ladies' rooms. The men's rooms, I checked myself. It was my habit to dart into each of them as I passed while performing another of my tasks. Apparently, my mind wandered, I embarrassed, and I was embarrassed. I hastily exited as the blood rushed to my face.
An indelible reminder has become a part of my mind. I am now uneasy when I enter any rest-room until I see the goat feeders hanging in their appropriate places. Moreover, I am aware that I consciously look for them before I relax.
Even today, as I go through the many doors of decision, I expect icons, like goat feeders, that will indicate that the places I frequent are unquestionably right too. Yet, I know from hindsight, had I taken care to acknowledge the signs, some visual and some derived by reason, I may have entered with confidence, or may not have entered at all.
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