The man simply refused to come out of the bathtub.
“Sir, you've been in there for three hours,” begged the woman.
He shifted his position slightly left of the camera, then slightly right. The composition for this would be a delicate one. If he expected to receive any respect from the Photographer's Guild, his entry form must be perfect. The “Attach Photograph Here” might be considered a simple task for most, but he knew it was a test of the art of self-portraiture.
He shifted his weight again, lifted one arm, then the other. He had to be sure not to look too posed, or the idea would seem trite.
“C'mon man, my daughter's really gotta go!” said an angry father's voice.
“What do you suppose outside is for?” demanded the man. Honestly. People had no sense these days.
“Sir, if you don't come out of there, I'll have to fetch the bathroom key,” said the woman's voice again.
There were sounds outside the door, a few choice words. The man ignored them and moved his camera to the opposite end of the tub and leaned back to face it. Full figure might be considered bold, but he was more than capable of boldness. Adjusting his sunglasses, he scooted forward and pressed the camera's timer. Now, all he need do is wait while the camera captured the perfect moment.
There was a loud crash and the bathroom door fell to the floor. The man let out a shrill scream as the angry boarders marched in and began to forcibly remove him from the tub. The man fought back, waving his arms about, kicking and screaming.
Later, as she reviewed new submissions, the head of the Photographer's Guild shook her head sadly at the image of a flailing Japanese man in the bathtub fighting with an angry mob.
“Can't they do anything other than bathtubs these days?” she muttered, tossing the submission in the reject pile.