Poop!
January 30th, 2016
If you've actually had nothing better to do with your spare time, you just might have been reading along with me as I poured my ridiculous thoughts into the site this month. If you have been paying particular attention, you might have seen that, compared to posts I have made previous to 2016, I am trying really, really hard to avoid using profanity, if only as yet another mental exercise.
Which makes today's post particularly difficult to compose. You see, the specific subject matter so readily lends itself to a 'four letter word' that I would, in fact, use it about three hundred times if I allowed myself to. But mostly to stop myself from dropping thirty six f-bombs (or whatever) each time I update the site, I'm attempting to abstain. Thus, I must consult a thesaurus this afternoon.
On this, my sixth straight day of twelve hour shifts, I was operating under the assumption that I would primarily have the building to myself. This assumption was a foolhardy one, for there have been just enough people here to completely derail my progress today. It all started during a quick chat with one of our test technicians, who was mocking our 'all hands' meeting yesterday.
As I prepared to get on with what I was doing, in comes Professor Beatshiskids, who apparently decided that he wanted to work today. Though when I say 'work', I really mean 'butt into someone else's conversation and ramble on about how Doctor Martin Luther King would have been angry that the Democrats have made everyone be politically correct, causing America's moral decline.' For about an hour.
Over the course of his nauseating tirade, which I couldn't escape because I had to go work in the area he usually 'works' in, it rapidly became apparent that I had a pressing concern. And by pressing, I mean that I had to urgently make use of my rear exhaust port. It was just a light pressure, at first, but my colon was rapidly escalating its dump everything now signal until I was in significant distress.
Finally escaping from the mountain of human excrement and the projectile feculence issuing forth from the Professor's mouth, I made a beeline for the nearest restroom. There are four female restrooms upstairs, but only one male restroom, so I was more than a little annoyed that when I made my way to the appropriate facility, somebody had already mounted the throne and was already building an immense stool within.
Since my first option was taken, I skedaddled downstairs and went to the next closest men's room, and when I climbed up the stairs to it (it's upstairs, even though the entrance is downstairs; don't ask me, I didn't repurpose this one hundred year old building long past its intended lifespan), every single stall was full of poopers, merrily tooting away as they talked about the imminent Super Bowl L ™.
So I sort of made that uncomfortable, constipated scamper over to the second restroom downstairs, and once I climbed up the stairs again (seriously, I don't know why the bathrooms are elevated above the production floor, it's really weird) there was yet another clown taking a dump. I'm in a bit of trouble by now, because my organs are in full revolt, but luckily the final restroom turned out to be free and clear.
I'm really not sure why, since there's only a half dozen people in the building right now, every single one of them had to evacuate their expended biomass at the exact same time. It's almost like they knew I had go go go, so they staged a Scatological Saturday to really crap on my morning. The toilet situation was, strangely enough, even worse than it usually is on weekdays.
Why all of this is a problem, you see, is that I already have difficulty using the facilities when other people are present during the best of times. In a pinch, I can eventually make use of a urinal if I have to go to the restroom bad enough, but I simply cannot drop dirty bombs when someone else is lingering in the room. Even if they're doing the same thing. In fact, that's even worse.
I consciously know that this is completely ridiculous, not to mention that Everybody Poops and blah blah blah, but it's one of those things I've always had a problem with. Cross-country drives turn into battles of willpower against my own digestive tract, and don't even ask how I managed to escape the public school system without facing this issue down.
But as I keep trying to detail, I have problems. Deep-seated mental issues, which despite their cumulative effect on my thought processes (or perhaps because of them), somehow allow me to at least minimally function as an adult. At any rate, I can't make a cargo run with other people in the room, or even if they're within a few square miles. Thus complete derailment of my efforts at work today.
Since finding an empty terlet took me about fifteen harried, panic-stricken minutes.