This safe haven shouldn't be abused though and in my office building it certainly is. Not by my coworkers, but by the freaks at the company across the hall (heretofore known simply as "the Freaks"). In particular, by 2 individuals whose restroom behavior continues to fascinate and horrify me, much like a Discovery channel documentary of a lion eating a gazelle. Regardless of the entrails dripping from Mufasa's mouth and my own humanity puddling on the floor at my feet, I continue to watch. I continue to watch with my mouth slightly ajar and my head cocked to one side. This is similar to my expression whilst guarding the restroom.
First, there's Bertha. Bertha is a girthy woman with a distinct odor (as her carefully chosen pseudonym might suggest). By "girthy" I mean she's the type of person who makes me put the extra cookie back in the jar and immediately start doing abdominal exercises at my desk. By "distinct odor" I mean one of my coworkers once reported to management that something must have died in the ventilation system.
Besides her moderately unsavory appearance, she spends a great deal of time violating our restroom... physically as well as vocally. Very vocally. And sometimes while eating chips.
Then there's Freak #2 who I once called security on. Freak #2 likes to stand in the bathroom stall thusly:
Mind you, in this illustration, I was there first. I came into an empty bathroom. She came in and of the 4 available stalls (all to my right) picked THAT one thereby completely eliminating the concept of the BUFFER stall and launching an aggressive assault on my personal space. When such an event occurs, I am left with no choice but the inevitable Stage Fright. I cannot urinate whilst preparing for a physical attack on my being. Furthermore, having identified herself as a freak, she cannot no longer be trusted to fall into the category of safe assumptions. Included in this category, the safe assumption that people don't just go into the restroom to listen to you pee. Awesome. Now I (maybe) have an audience who's (maybe) staring at the wall to her left instead of looking politely ahead. I could (maybe) feel her eyes boring through the thin wall as she attempted to see me with her xray vision. All bets are off and I just had a Venti iced coffee. Queue tilted walnut bladder's uncontrollable whimpering.
Wait. Stop. I'm getting way ahead of myself. You've gotten me all worked up. This event happened several weeks after my original encounter in which I called security. In said original encounter I went into the bathroom to find what appeared to be a person standing so close to the stall door that a pair of actively wiggling shoes were sticking out into the surrounding room. And the shoes were large and masculine. So, I pulled Trick #460 from the Ol' Rule Book and faux-blew my nose before running away... running away and calling security:
Dangerous: Hello?? Security??
Security Girl: Hi.
Dangerous: Security Girl, it's Dangerous from upstairs.
Security Girl: Oh hey, what's up? Time to go home yet? Haha.
Dangerous: SECURITY GIRL! Do not joke about home. There is a MAN in my bathroom. You must come immediately to arrest him.
Security Girl: Seriously?
Dangerous: I'm very sure of it.
Security Girl: I'm so there.
Until Security Girl made her way up the elevator, I jumped into my Concerned Citizen gear and ran to the hallway where I concealed myself in the trash area to watch the only entrance to the Ladies' Room for the serial killer to make his exit at which time I would pepper spray him and finally get on the 5:00 News.
Much to my dismay, the only occupant emerged: a squirrely woman I recognized from the office across the way. And oh boy was she surprised to see me hiding behind a recycling bin. I went back to my desk with my head hanging low to wait for Security Girl to laugh at me... again.
So while you enjoy the serenity of a quiet, deserted bathroom for extended stays of near 20 minutes, I am forced to reduce my visits to unclockable speeds lest another encounter with the Freak side ensue. I am bereft of refuge in this sea of cubicles. I am chained to my desk, unable even to urinate my way into safety. If anyone needs me, I will be in the trash area, sitting in the corner and eating wet cigarette butts.
1 comment:
haha we have a demon pooper at my work. she goes in there for 20 minutes at a time, and we can hear gurgles and grunts and when she comes out its like hiroshima. she has thus learned to close the door after herself
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