My last job featured an office layout where I literally sat eight feet away from where people poop.

I’m about 5 or 6 weeks into my new job when suddenly a revelation struck me yesterday.

I have improved on that and set a new personal best!

How it almost slipped my mind I’ll never know.

The first few weeks at the new job were hella crazy. Calling it “chaos” would be a monumental understatement. The office was torn to hell. Boxes everywhere, science experiments in the fridge, a microwave oven that made 7/11 look clean – well, you get the picture.

Just yesterday I finally got issued an email address. Suffice it to say that things are not very organized.

Every day I’d come to work and find that my precious few personal items had been moved. For my own personal safety my personal items at work consist of liquid hand soap and hand sanitizer. The other day I came to work and they had been moved – again! So I stood up and announced to the office, “Wow. I really, really, really like this particular space for my stuff. This little 6″ x 10″ cubbyhole on this particular section of this shelf in this cabinet is where my stuff will be henceforth. Forever! I love it.” May God have mercy on the soul of anyone who moves my shit from this moment on.

And so it was with my desk. Where will I be sitting today? And will my “desk” be a piece of wood balanced on two sawhorses? Or perchance a kitchen table? Or, mayhap, a TV tray? And, if I may ask a followup question, where will my workstation be located? Will it be here, like yesterday, or someplace new? Over by the window? The door? The far corner? Where, oh where, will I sit? And, for bonus points, will my computer be swapped out and/or completely left in pieces?

Finally, last week, things settled down. Workstations were built. Ones that will be difficult to move. (Yeah!) Sure, my computer still got fucked with the other day, but that’s small potatoes in the scope of my “career” here so far. Yes, I finally have a place to sit.

And then it occurred to me. Whataminute! I’m closer than eight feet to where people poop! Much closer, as a matter of fact. I now share the friggin’ wall with the bathroom. By my calculations I’m about six feet away from the origin of the feces.

A new personal best, even for me.

I made a spreadsheet and graphed a linear plot of progress to date. By my calculations, at my next job, I will literally sit inside the toilet. And finally all will be well with the universe. I can’t wait.

Here’s today’s video selection inspired by my seating arrangement at work (and another shining example of where the makers should be thankful I don’t sue for stealing the story of my life):

There must be a certain gleam in my eye when I tell folks that I work about eight feet from where people poop. Typical in these here parts, I’m afraid. A retail business sets up shop in an industrial facility. You probably know the sort. There is a front office area, usually consisting of two or three little rooms. In the back is an open space usually used for a warehouse. In the very back is a roll-up door for deliveries, etc. The front area inc … Read More

via Shouts from the Abyss