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Cynthetiq · 02-17-2005, 01:54 PM

An email that a coworker wrote...

Quote:

Recognize That?!?!
There are these 3 wacky guys that I work with who are obsessed with this one bathroom up on the 31st floor. The whole thing's out of control. I'm on 27 and I've got this little thing going with my bathroom too, but these guys are bleeping nuts.

It's like they're up there on 31 patrolling the john busting people who don't behave properly. And you have to understand something, the bathroom at work's not your bathroom. Nothing at work is actually yours! I mean, you clog it up, you just get the hell out of there and let someone else handle it, no? Don't get me wrong, I'll kick start it a few times, but if that doesn't work, I'm the fuck out of there! I may not enjoy the experience as much as when I'm plopped down at home with the latest SI, but there's no emotional involvement either. It's just another quick toilet, and it will surely live to see another day, regardless of how I may treat it.

But that's the thing about these morons, it WAS emotional for them. Someone up on 31 was fucking with THEIR bathroom, goddamnit, and they weren't going to put up with it anymore. Kinda like my neighbor not tolerating her postcards anymore. They were gonna try to do something about something they couldn't really do anything about. They were getting emotionally involved, in other words.

I don't know the guy that they thought was responsible, but there was no logic to the whole thing. They were convinced that he was going in there and intentionally blasting away and basically having his way with THEIR bathroom. They'd seen him come out of the bathroom once and he was grinning, and they figured it must be him. This took place over a course of months obviously. It just came to a head (forgive the pun) recently, which is when I heard about it.

But the thing about a bathroom at work is this: who do you call? I mean, if it's a purely practical issue like the plumbing, you call maintenance, but if it's an issue involving accepted standards of behavior in a work place bathroom, well, I'm hard pressed to think of an organization prepared to handle that! You just naturally assume that everyone has used a bathroom before, and that they'll know how to use this one too, no? Fuck me!

At first it started out small. They got pissed off because guys would go in there and instead of throwing away the paper towels in the garbage after washing up, some of them would use them to open the two sets of doors as well, leaving the damp sheets in the vestibule on their way out. This was more of a technicality than a major penalty, and it was even somewhat understandable. After all, some assholes (mainly computer consultants from south Asia, they assumed) would use the urinals, not flush, not wash up, (not do anything at all!) and just walk out.

Anyone who was present would understandably be reluctant to grip the same door handle on their way out. I myself had experienced this very thing on my floor and responded in a similar manner. I'm not particularly fastidious, but goddamn! The upshot of this was a sign on the first door of the bathroom on 31 that read: Gentlemen of the 31st floor, please flush and wash up accordingly and dispose of sanitary items in appropriate receptacle on your way out. Maybe they should have written the sign in Urdu, or used an exclamation point for emphasis, who knows. Someone, assumed to be south Asian, tore it down, stomped all over it, and left it there by the side of the door. I think it was the heel imprints that did the guys in. It was like someone had desecrated their temple.

I'm going to assume that these guys work at work, that they don't spend all their time prowling the john on 31. I snuck a quick one up there a few months ago myself, but never again. I'll only use the furthest stall from the door, and if 27 is not available, I'll swoop around looking for one that is. There's something about a successful dump at the office, especially on someone else's floor. It's like you've gotten away with something. It felt different on 31 than it does on 27. It felt different enough for me to mention it now is all I'm saying.

But there's this guy on 31 who doesn't swoop anywhere, who does his business up there regardless of what stall's available. Apparently he goes in there and has his way with the place. There are 43 other guys on that floor, and there are 4 stalls, which works out to roughly one for every ten guys, but when he's in there, it's like they're all his. I can kind of see how that might piss someone off.

It got to the point where Sean would go in there expecting to find a steaming pile. One day he just had enough. It was the second stall from the door. The sign had been ripped down again. He'd had too much black bean chili for lunch. He was collapsing internally. In short, he wasn't in a good mood. He opened the door to the stall and jumped back. You've been trailing someone for weeks, you just know. He finally cracked. He actually whipped out his cell phone and took a picture of the offending pile. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, he just knew he had to have a record. It was like a bleeping crime scene for him at this point.

A few weeks later he was at the company Christmas party collapsing externally. He was hanging out with his two friends. They were gulping bourbon and munching on fried oysters and discussing what to do about the bathroom on 31 and the asshole they had identified as the culprit. They didn't really have a case. They just knew it was him. You come out of a bathroom grinning, you're guilty of something! The digital picture had been analyzed over and over. Momentum was building. As chance would have it, Rich showed up at their table at that very moment. What you've got to understand is that this guy is a co-worker of theirs. He's a colleague. He's a professional IT guy with a family and a two car garage. He takes his job and his family seriously. He participates in a weekly meeting with these 3 guys where they discuss serious stuff, none of which involves the bathroom on 31. He's unaware that that bathroom, or any other for that matter, is a topic of conversation among his colleagues. To his knowledge, he is a well respected member of the team. He is in fact a team player and proud of it.

The moment he sits down Joe, the guy that I know, starts kicking Sean under the table. The message is clear. We've got him here, let's break him. Show him the picture, the crime scene, see how he reacts. To his credit, Sean is reluctant. Part of him understands that the whole thing is out of control. The only time he talks to Rich it's about fiber optic this or satellite that. To be sure they have actually discussed dumps before, but only of the technical variety. Once on a business trip to the west coast Rich tried to effect a remote data dump over a wireless LAN. He ended up clogging up the entire network. Email was down for 2 hours. The messaging guys were not pleased.

But there's nothing in the least way remote or technical about this dump. It's sitting right there in living color on Sean's cell phone. Joe keeps kicking him under the table. Mike's getting so worked up that he spills his drink. All three of them are howling. Rich is just pleased to be in a group of shitfaced co-workers for once. He's never been included in anything before. He's not sure why they're laughing, but that's the beautiful thing about being shitfaced, it doesn't bleeping matter. Right then, just as Rich is starting to feel like he belongs for the very first time in his life, Sean reaches over and flips open his cell phone: Recognize that?!?