The dog-and-pony show that I call work continues to stupefy me and take life into new realms of weirdness.
You all know that I ride my bike to work at least 3 times a week. When I do, naturally I stuff my backpack with my work clothes since, well, I don’t think they’d appreciate me sitting at my desk in bike shorts and an Under Armour compression shirt, dripping in sweat.
After I put my lunch in the fridge, I head to the big stall in the bathroom to change into my work clothes and without fail, between 6:45 and 6:55 a.m., the door opens, there’s a crinkling of a plastic bag, and then…nothing.
That’s it. There’s nobody coming in, there are no echoing footsteps, absolutely nothing. So from what I can gather, some asshole—for whatever reason—simply opens the door all the way as he passes the bathroom and then continues down his merry way to the elevator, probably skipping and whistling “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” or something.
Hmmm…and for what?
I dunno. But after being a part of The Banana Fucking Splits Show for a few months and watching how the place operates (which to this day astounds me), I’ve decided not to question anything anymore. I just roll with the punches and hope that someday, a big bag of money shows up on my door. There’s no reason it would; it’s just nice to think about.
Speaking of dysfunctional workplaces, I finally got my PC which actually worries me more than anything. You see, getting a PC is akin to the Kiss of Death for me: every time I get one, I’m moved to another desk (or table or M*A*S*H unit in the parking lot, as it were). And being it was yet another computer, it had to reinstall everything (residing on the network) all over again.
The one thing it couldn’t do for me was create my e-mail signature, which is usually so cut-and-paste it’s ridiculous. But no, that’s not how we roll.
I had to copy-and-paste generic text and replace the names and phone numbers with mine, download their all-too-important logo, etc., etc., etc. The problem was that I couldn’t find the Signatures folder which is where I needed to save the HTML file.
So I did the only logical thing: I searched for it on the PC. As the Microsoft dog pawed at the ground waiting to return my search results, the monitor went blank and the damn thing restarted.
It did this each time I tried to search for it. I eventually got it to save the signature but man, at least give me a PC that works, will you?
Welcome to Idearc Media, where nothing makes sense and the Keys of Knowledge have been lost forever.
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8 thoughts on “The Bathroom Troll”
my guess is that the crinkling you hear is the custodian with a plastic trash bag, but when he sees your feet under the stall, he decides to come back and clean the room later.
either that, or it’s the office mass murderer ready to choke you out with a plastic bag…
dave, what kind of material does Idearc Media put out? is it possibly more mundane than writing about artificial turf (“even better than the real thing!”)
No, all of the custodians are female and they all knock before entering. So I’m guessing your second theory is more accurate.
We produce ads for Verizon Yellow Pages. I go through piles of papers as thick as a phone book each day of work. It’s a tremendous waste when you consider that each sheet is only for one ad. I’m just a Mail Monkey there; it’s definitely more tedious than writing about artifical turf, i.e. the grass you never have to cut, the grass that stays green all year long…
“Tony, Dave Baker…”
shoot–the publishing industry is tough right now. our magazine is getting thinner and thinner.
BTW, glad you decided to keep blogging. if it weren’t for sites like yours, and Fark and whathaveyou, i’d be forced to spend my day doing actual work!
Believe it or not, we’re doing okay. I just wish they’d spread some of the wealth around to us peons. I knew I’d be back to blogging. I just got this wild notion to dedicate more time to writing a screenplay (or something else) and realized I wasn’t doing anything. So yeah–nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I knew that picture would come in handy some day!My guess it is Huckleberry Hound who drops by the bathroom…just a guess!
I’ll find out someday–maybe.
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