I have good news and bad news. In what order do you want it?
And here we go again … introducing yet another new feature to the blog-yo-sphere. I’m dubbing this invention blog reader interactivity. For the first time, you get to choose the story!
If you want the good news first, read the following paragraphs in numerical order. If you prefer it the other way around (and hey, who doesn’t?) then simply read those paragraphs in reverse order. Read to interact? Go!
1. Living Dilbert has returned to the scene of the crime … wait, erm, I mean, her blog. Yeah, that’s it. Yeah, her blog! This is huge. And good.
2. She promised to blog about, and I quote: “I can’t poo at this job.”As we go to press with this posting, that missive still hasn’t seen the light of day. That’s the bad news. No doubt it will pop up later. I hope.
As the current world record holder in the category of “Poop Where You Work” I am very interested in what she has to say about the topic. I await that post with baited breath.
I know what LD, means, though. I recently took on a new job. It’s been almost four months now. It took a few weeks before I was even able to pee for the first time. That bathroom was disgusting. But, and let me know if this is in any way Too Much Information (TMI), it took over three months before my one and only poo activity at work, and that only happened this week because I was deathly ill. Before that vicious blow I had successfully trained my body to be more mindful of work hours.
Sure, you can save a lot of money on toilet paper if you only poop at work, but that’s not my bag. Not when you hang out with The Unclean. They can be so … dirty.
My relationship with poop on this blog is a storied one and the stuff of legend. It all started one day when I posted an economic theory of mine. I call it Gold Nugget economics. Quite simply, it is the theory that I am gold and you are poop. This forms the basis of all economic tension that makes the entire world go around.
A few posts like that and soon, quite unplanned, I assure you, “poop” stood alone as the Big Kahuna in my tag cloud. Not one to miss an opportunity, I grabbed that poop and ran with it. I seized the day. I swore, right then and there, that poop would always remain this blog’s #1 tag, and I’m proud to say my commitment there has never wavered.
The first real volley in the poop genre, however, was launched about a month into my blog. That’s when I keenly noticed that I worked eight feet away from where people pooped. Not a bad start.
Sometimes customers use the work toilet, too. If they do, you’ve got a job to do when they leave, shall we say, surprises?
Of course, it should be no big surprise to anyone that I went on to break my own record in the “distance to toilet” department. This is no small achievement!
So, in summation, allow me to say this once again. Make no mistake about it. I’m glad Living Dilbert is back. 🙂
We’ve got 3 stalls and I hate doing ANYTHING with others in there. It’s bad enough in public but here, you poo and then have to look somebody you work with in the eye.
“my but your poo was quite rancid today!”
Exactly! You grok what I’m laying down!
Where I work it’s like this: Three people, an office the size of my living room, and one bathroom. My workstation is literally six feet from the toilet.
I used to work in a cubicle culture in a 10-story building. The bathrooms were located on each floor in the middle of the layout near the elevators. If you got up and walked away from your desk no one knew where you might be headed.
You might be going to the first floor to grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria.
You might be going to the next floor up to attend a meeting.
You might be around the corner grabbing office supplies.
And yeah, you might be in the bathroom.
In a situation like that there was not enough information to create knowledge of each other’s bathroom habits. If you spent 47 minutes on the can – no one would know. They had no idea where you had been or what you had been doing, and the smell didn’t alert the whole damn office, either.
People would frequently stop by and peek in cubicles and find the occupant gone. They’d just shrug, say, “She must be in a meeting. I’ll try again later.” The point is: You never knew. (In some cases people would literally walk to the mall next door and catch a movie at the 40-plex. People never knew that, either.)
Another benefit of our small office: When someone is running the tape gun at the shipping table I literally cannot hear my customers on the phone. Ah, the joys of a small office!
I’m so flattered!!!! It’s in the draft mode….had a real experience this week. Thank you for the VERY KIND mention! I’ve missed you too! You are the record holder on poo in my book.
I guess you never actually promised when it would be published. Maybe I overreacted a bit. Maybe.