HOWARD BEACH - Gary T., 54, stood in his bathroom for approximately forty minutes on Tuesday afternoon, phone raised, swiping frantically at a sensor mounted where his toilet handle used to be, before accepting that the free market had, in this specific instance, let him down.
Directly above the toilet, in a brushed chrome frame, hangs a needlepoint that reads "DRAIN THE SWAMP." That gave this reporter the old chuckle.
Mr. T. was laid off in February from his position as a mid-level administrator at the Department of Housing and Urban Development, one of roughly fourteen thousand federal employees released following budget reductions by the Department of Government Efficiency. In the weeks that followed, he described himself as "finally ready to stop depending on the government for everything," a sentiment he said he had held since approximately January 14th.
His living room, which this reporter observed through an open door while Mr. T. located his shoes, contains forty-one life-size cardboard cutouts of Donald Trump. They are everywhere. One stands at the entrance to the kitchen. Two flank the television. One is positioned in the corner of the bathroom, facing the toilet, which Mr. T could not open. A smaller cutout — tabletop-sized, promotional, the kind distributed at campaign events — sits on the back of the toilet tank itself, beneath the needlepoint, as though presiding over the fixture. Three framed photographs of the president line the hallway. A commemorative MAGA plate is mounted in the living room alongside a pillow reading IN GOD & TRUMP WE TRUST and a second pillow, on the recliner, reading WINNERS DON'T NEED HANDOUTS. A refrigerator magnet depicts the president pointing at the viewer above the words YOU'RE DOING GREAT.
"I've been collecting since 2015," Mr. T said, when asked about the cutouts. He did not elaborate.
"I was the one always saying, let the private sector handle it," Mr. T. continued. "Competition drives innovation. Efficiency. You get better service at a lower cost."
Mr. T. goes on to explain how he decided to hire Liberation Utilities Solutions LLC, a Newark-based utilities privatization startup, to replace his existing plumbing infrastructure at no cost with what the company's website describes as a "seamless, metered hydration and sanitation experience." Under the terms of his contract, Mr. T. pays $0.08 per flush, $0.14 per minute of shower, and a flat monthly fee of $34.99 described in the documentation as a "sovereignty surcharge." Drinking water is billed at market rate, updated hourly.
"I thought, what could go wrong? It's free!"
The crisis began around 1:15 p.m., when he found himself in urgent need of a restroom while running errands along Cross Bay Boulevard. He entered a Barnes & Noble, a Starbucks, a second Starbucks, a bookstore he described as "the kind with cats in it," and a diner, all of which informed him that restroom access required a purchase that Mr. T could not afford.
"A small coffee is $4.35," he said. "4.35? For coffee?!!"
He then ran, by his own account, six blocks to his car.
Upon arriving home and discovering his Liberation Utilities account balance to be $0.00, Mr. T. attempted to reach the company by phone. He was connected to an A.I. customer service representative named "Wade," who informed him that his account had been suspended for non-payment, that reinstatement required a $25 reconnection fee, and that Liberation Utilities valued his business.
From across the room, eleven cardboard Trumps looked on.
Liberation Utilities Solutions LLC did not respond to a request for comment. Their website, as of press time, features a banner reading: "Your home. Your choice. Your bill. Our profit."
Mr. T. ultimately resolved his situation by walking to the nearest Mobil station, where the attendant, a man named Thiru who has worked there for twenty-two years let him use the bathroom without charge.
"Thiru didn't ask me for my credit card," Mr. T said. "He just said go ahead, the handle sticks."
Mr. T. then said he then apologized for calling ICE on Thiru last week as he left.