Talking to John at Work, Pt 1

So I had a deep blog post ready for today about how good of a day Wednesday had been. That will wait until tomorrow. I'm going to write about a frustrating experience I had today while trying to take a crap at work. Yes, I am talking about pooping at work. C'mon, we've all done it. I know it's uncomfortable to go to the bathroom other than our home base, but sometimes nature calls unexpectedly.

In my second job out of college, I was an Admissions Counselor for my alma mater, Greensboro College. Our office was a house at the front of campus. Beautiful house; worse bathroom layout ever. The bathroom that was delineated for the staff men's room was near the open air and near all the other office rooms. Our staff was majority female. I hated going to the bathroom there if my stomach was exploding.

However, since I was the Fine Arts Recruiter, I would make daily trips to the Music Building. "I'm going to Odell!" became my phrase as I would leave with a magazine buried under my admissions paperwork. I soon discovered, however, that going to the bathroom in Odell Building, and really anywhere on the campus, was unpleasant during the North Carolina summer because of lack of air conditioning in the bathrooms. Every building on campus, even the really old ones, had been fitted with central air, except for the bathrooms. What fucktards designed that!?! Who wants to break out in a massive sweat as they are having gastronomiconomic muscle contractions? Good thing that the newly constructed science building rectified that architectural mistake.

But I digress. This post is not intended to be a discourse about how I have creatively found ways to poop at work in comfort and privacy. Nah, it is about today. So because of certain work conditions lately, I have routinely been the only one in my department physically in my office. My teammate administrative assistant from the Medical Dept. was moved another location months ago. On my floor is another department. And when I don't answer my phone it bounces over to their receptionist.

Now there must be some corollary to Murphy's Law that says that the odds of the phone ringing are in direct proportion when you are away from your desk. I can sit at my desk for two hours, not a peep. However, the minute I go to get a cup of coffee. . . .BANG!!! I get three calls at once from every director in the agency looking for stuff to be done stat! It always works that way.

So our bathrooms are out in the hallway. And sure enough, nine times out of ten when I go, I hear my phone ring. And times, when I am really, um, shall we say indisposed because I had the three-alarm chili bean dip for lunch the receptionist on the other side will invariably answer my line. Now instead of doing the smart thing and taking a message, she'll put the person on hold and yell out my name!!

"Um, he seems to have stepped away from his desk."

Ya think!!! There I am in the bathroom scrambling to pull up my pants because I know the receptionist probably said something fucktarded and I'll have to smooth over some disgruntled director or board member. It's even gotten to the point where I bring the office walkie-talkie into the bathroom in case my boss's boss, who is a type-A heart attack waiting to happen, calls.

"Jim, WHERE ARE YOU?!!! Why aren't you answering the phone?!!! Why isn't there anyone in your office?!!

"Um, Sir, I'm taking a shit. And my boss, and the other supervisors are all out at the houses they supervise, as their job description describes. Have you tried getting them through the walkie-talkie?"

"Oh. Sorry. Call me when you're done."

So this afternoon, as I felt the falafel sandwich with everything and hot sauce turn my stomach right round baby right round, I emailed the receptionist, so I wouldn't have to say it out loud for her entire office to hear, that I was going to be indisposed (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) for a few minutes, would you please take any of my calls. It was supposed to be discreet.

What does she does? She opens the email, and READS IT ALOUD at a volume her entire office can hear! All the other receptionist/assistant needed to do was keep it to herself, and if someone called for my department say, "Jim is indisposed at the moment. May I take a message for you? He'll call you back as soon as he can!"

Nah, that would take to much thinking. Just one more reason I need to start my own business. So I can crap in peace while I am at home doing work.












(This picture graciously borrowed from Things I Hate About My Flatmate. I have to properly site my sources, like the good liberal arts student.)