Typical morning; but isn't that how all adventures start? Popped into the office just a few minutes behind schedule, and was relieved to see that a friendly colleague had already started a pot of coffee. Grab a cup, and start the work day. About two cups later, a familiar urge hits the lower intestine. Time to go.
Topping off my coffee cup on the way out the door, I wave to another (less then friendly) colleague just making her way in (at the time I didn't see the significance of this bad omen). I checked my watch, hoping that I still had a few minutes before James, the local custodial engineer, made the rounds. No dice. So I made the quick trek up to the bathroom directly above. Swung open the door and stared... water was pouring like a fountain from between the ceiling tiles. Regained my composure, and dialed the facilities manager to alert him of the massive leak.
I wish I could say this was the first time I had to call in a bathroom failure, but I've been on the dialing end twice before. Same situation. Luckily, I was not having a bathroom emergency of my own, and I safely made it to the third restroom on my contingency route.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
RJ::Dog Doos and Don'ts
I already see it at least three times a day, no need for a calendar...
This is definately a don't.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
RJ::Trouble
Trouble is A-Brewing
Today I stepped into unchartered territory. Afternoon coffee. Now I know this may surprise a lot of you readers, but I generally shy away from the java after lunch – usually by then I am completely awake and can face the last half of the day without a stimulant. As expected, this irregular decision made a direct impact on my Regular Joes status, or to put it another way – made me irregular.
While I sat there in the restroom for a rare 3PM deuce, I was reminded of one of my most harrowing adventures in a public restroom. This dates back about two years ago…
[Cue dream sequence.]
I was attending an association meeting at an off site location. I had been there several times before so I was familiar with the bathroom and its equipment. These meetings are generally all day; however I usually duck out after lunch as to avoid getting pulled into a working group or committee. On the morning in question I recall feeling a little more fatigued then usual – either due to lack of sleep or the dry meeting material. As one might guess with coffee provided, I hit the sauce like a hobo on a ham sandwich. I can vividly remember the tiny 10oz Styrofoam coffee cups, that felt more like shot glasses then coffee cups, and having to make trip after trip to refill the dinky cup. Seriously, I hate those cups; you have a three second window to drink your coffee - between scalding hot coffee and iced coffee. I digress. I had finally settled into my seat as the morning presentations began. It wasn’t long before I felt a little uneasy – Stage 1. Shortly after, the first gas tremors began to rumble in my gut – Stage 2.
Knowing time was short – already at stage two of five in the classic emergency diarrhea scenario – I began to shuffle my papers and ready myself for a quick exit. Experience will tell you that the first two stages are critical warning signs to heed, as the onset of the last three stages comes quickly and in rapid fire. If you have not already made some preparations, it may already be too late.
I checked my watch, glanced at the agenda – “maybe I can hold out until the break, this guy is almost done with his slides,” I thought to myself. Immediately upon completion of that thought Stage 3 – uncontrolled butt clenching – struck. Here’s where most people start making mistakes. It’s a little known fact that once you’ve entered the third stage, you instantly move into Stage 4 – the sweats. We’ve all been there, it’s like there’s a heat lamp directly over your head. This is it. This is when panic sets in for those without an exit strategy. This is when people get hurt.
I made my move. Quickly and quietly I stood and briskly walked to the exit. I was a man on a mission, no eye contact, no hellos, no nothing – I would have walked past my own mother and not acknowledged or even recognized her. I was midway to the restroom when I entered Stage 5 – crowning. Some people will refer to it as a “peeking gopher,” or a “turtle’s head poking out;” either way if you aren’t in or around a bathroom at this point, you run the risk of ruining a perfectly good pair of briefs.
Had the bathroom been closed for cleaning, Lord knows what might have happened. With everyone else still in the meeting I had a moment alone to peacefully unload my burden. I breathed a sigh of relief and reflected back on how my calm and quick decisions helped me avoid disaster. I could hear the sound of applause from the conference room, and knew that soon a flood of attendees would soon spoil my moment.
The bathroom door slowly opened and the loud talking masses entered the restroom, it was then and only then that I noticed I had made a serious error – there wasn’t any toilet paper in my stall! The crowd of full bladdered men was still pouring in…I looked around – damn, no ass-gaskets (seat covers). I considered loosely pulling up my pants and maneuvering down to another stall, but on further investigation of the splatter-fest I had just endured, I realized that would not be an option. I was trapped. I would have to wait them out. Sit quietly in my stall of shame until every last man had finished his business, before waddling to the next stall – pants around my ankles. I lowered my head in defeat. How could I have let this happen? In my rush to the bathroom I lost my composure, and forgot the most basic of public restroom ground rules – don’t take the toilet paper for granted.
As I sat there replaying the events that led up to my predicament in my head, something caught my eye. I slowly turned to the left and there it was… just under the stall wall fluttering ever so slightly in the breeze (no doubt created by the massive influx of people into the confined space), was the smallest of TP pieces. It was hanging down from the stall next door. Could it be? Was I really saved? How much was on the roll? Would the other people in the restroom see me pulling the toilet paper from under the stall? Did the paper have enough tensile strength to withstand the extra distance of force I would apply?
In the end all those questions didn’t matter – there was no one in the next stall, so I had no choice but to go for it. I gingerly grasped the end of the sheet, and cautiously pulled it toward me. Once I had gathered a handful, I tore the paper using both hands to be sure I could reach it again if I needed more… and I did. I went back to the well three times before all was said and done. Did anyone see? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I had survived, and that was all that mattered. I like to think that given the same situation, MacGyver would have done the same thing (You know, what would Richard Dean Anderson do? - WWRDAD?).
[Fade to present.]
So there it is my friends, a cautionary tale. Heed the warning signs, plan ahead and adapt to your surroundings. Let’s be safe out there.
Today I stepped into unchartered territory. Afternoon coffee. Now I know this may surprise a lot of you readers, but I generally shy away from the java after lunch – usually by then I am completely awake and can face the last half of the day without a stimulant. As expected, this irregular decision made a direct impact on my Regular Joes status, or to put it another way – made me irregular.
While I sat there in the restroom for a rare 3PM deuce, I was reminded of one of my most harrowing adventures in a public restroom. This dates back about two years ago…
[Cue dream sequence.]
I was attending an association meeting at an off site location. I had been there several times before so I was familiar with the bathroom and its equipment. These meetings are generally all day; however I usually duck out after lunch as to avoid getting pulled into a working group or committee. On the morning in question I recall feeling a little more fatigued then usual – either due to lack of sleep or the dry meeting material. As one might guess with coffee provided, I hit the sauce like a hobo on a ham sandwich. I can vividly remember the tiny 10oz Styrofoam coffee cups, that felt more like shot glasses then coffee cups, and having to make trip after trip to refill the dinky cup. Seriously, I hate those cups; you have a three second window to drink your coffee - between scalding hot coffee and iced coffee. I digress. I had finally settled into my seat as the morning presentations began. It wasn’t long before I felt a little uneasy – Stage 1. Shortly after, the first gas tremors began to rumble in my gut – Stage 2.
Knowing time was short – already at stage two of five in the classic emergency diarrhea scenario – I began to shuffle my papers and ready myself for a quick exit. Experience will tell you that the first two stages are critical warning signs to heed, as the onset of the last three stages comes quickly and in rapid fire. If you have not already made some preparations, it may already be too late.
I checked my watch, glanced at the agenda – “maybe I can hold out until the break, this guy is almost done with his slides,” I thought to myself. Immediately upon completion of that thought Stage 3 – uncontrolled butt clenching – struck. Here’s where most people start making mistakes. It’s a little known fact that once you’ve entered the third stage, you instantly move into Stage 4 – the sweats. We’ve all been there, it’s like there’s a heat lamp directly over your head. This is it. This is when panic sets in for those without an exit strategy. This is when people get hurt.
I made my move. Quickly and quietly I stood and briskly walked to the exit. I was a man on a mission, no eye contact, no hellos, no nothing – I would have walked past my own mother and not acknowledged or even recognized her. I was midway to the restroom when I entered Stage 5 – crowning. Some people will refer to it as a “peeking gopher,” or a “turtle’s head poking out;” either way if you aren’t in or around a bathroom at this point, you run the risk of ruining a perfectly good pair of briefs.
Had the bathroom been closed for cleaning, Lord knows what might have happened. With everyone else still in the meeting I had a moment alone to peacefully unload my burden. I breathed a sigh of relief and reflected back on how my calm and quick decisions helped me avoid disaster. I could hear the sound of applause from the conference room, and knew that soon a flood of attendees would soon spoil my moment.
The bathroom door slowly opened and the loud talking masses entered the restroom, it was then and only then that I noticed I had made a serious error – there wasn’t any toilet paper in my stall! The crowd of full bladdered men was still pouring in…I looked around – damn, no ass-gaskets (seat covers). I considered loosely pulling up my pants and maneuvering down to another stall, but on further investigation of the splatter-fest I had just endured, I realized that would not be an option. I was trapped. I would have to wait them out. Sit quietly in my stall of shame until every last man had finished his business, before waddling to the next stall – pants around my ankles. I lowered my head in defeat. How could I have let this happen? In my rush to the bathroom I lost my composure, and forgot the most basic of public restroom ground rules – don’t take the toilet paper for granted.
As I sat there replaying the events that led up to my predicament in my head, something caught my eye. I slowly turned to the left and there it was… just under the stall wall fluttering ever so slightly in the breeze (no doubt created by the massive influx of people into the confined space), was the smallest of TP pieces. It was hanging down from the stall next door. Could it be? Was I really saved? How much was on the roll? Would the other people in the restroom see me pulling the toilet paper from under the stall? Did the paper have enough tensile strength to withstand the extra distance of force I would apply?
In the end all those questions didn’t matter – there was no one in the next stall, so I had no choice but to go for it. I gingerly grasped the end of the sheet, and cautiously pulled it toward me. Once I had gathered a handful, I tore the paper using both hands to be sure I could reach it again if I needed more… and I did. I went back to the well three times before all was said and done. Did anyone see? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I had survived, and that was all that mattered. I like to think that given the same situation, MacGyver would have done the same thing (You know, what would Richard Dean Anderson do? - WWRDAD?).
[Fade to present.]
So there it is my friends, a cautionary tale. Heed the warning signs, plan ahead and adapt to your surroundings. Let’s be safe out there.
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