Mama, he's crazy

I passed a gentleman on my way into the restroom at work this morning. He was standing outside the men's room in a sort of lunged-forward stance, staring bug-eyed at a tongue depressor he was holding out in front of him just above his eye level. He rapidly turned the tongue depressor over and over between his fingers, reading the words written on it. Those words were YES on one side and NO on the other. When I came out of the restroom a couple of minutes later, he was still standing there . . . but now he looked perfectly calm, standing in a relaxed way with his hands clasped behind his back and a benign little smile on his face. Maybe the tongue depressor ritual soothes him somehow.