A Special Report By Reece
Editor's Note - This is about dumps. If you can't handle it, get your ass out of the kitchen....actually make that the bathroom
I offically hate my office bathroom. Once a place of quiet solitude, where I could catch up on last night's sports, or review my calls and texts of the night before, or simply enjoy the peace of mind which comes with a morning dump, the office bathroom has become a nightmare. For a quiet, simpler shitter as myself, I look to do my business in a prompt manner and be out of there like clockwork. But no more. For reasons I can't fathom, the bathroom has transformed as a meeting area for office workers - a place where people will make phone calls while they pee, have open discussions as they do their business, make all sorts of racket on their PDAs, and act like they in line for a movie or getting coffee at Dunks. People blab and laugh and call clients and even practice their hygiene in a place of poop and pee. It has become the Grand Central Poop Station. And I hate it.
Editor's Note - This is about dumps. If you can't handle it, get your ass out of the kitchen....actually make that the bathroom
I offically hate my office bathroom. Once a place of quiet solitude, where I could catch up on last night's sports, or review my calls and texts of the night before, or simply enjoy the peace of mind which comes with a morning dump, the office bathroom has become a nightmare. For a quiet, simpler shitter as myself, I look to do my business in a prompt manner and be out of there like clockwork. But no more. For reasons I can't fathom, the bathroom has transformed as a meeting area for office workers - a place where people will make phone calls while they pee, have open discussions as they do their business, make all sorts of racket on their PDAs, and act like they in line for a movie or getting coffee at Dunks. People blab and laugh and call clients and even practice their hygiene in a place of poop and pee. It has become the Grand Central Poop Station. And I hate it.
Look, before I go any further, I'm not gonna act all high and mighty and be above talking about a normal, natural body function. Everyone takes a crap. Paris Hilton, President Obama, Jessica Biel, the Pope, Tom Brady--they all take craps. Just like you and me. People take craps. They eat, they drink, they laugh, they fall down, and they crap. It's just the circle of life.
The final straw happened this morning. I was sitting at my stall, minding my own business while attempting to do my own business, when another gentleman entered. There was no one else in the bathroom, and I was in the first stall from the right. There were 5 - count em, 5 - other stalls to go with. This PRICK saddles right up to the next stall, right next me, so close I could see his disgusting shoes, and preceeds to take a horrifying crap right beside me. We were 2 feet apart. It was one of the worst moments of my life - in fact of the top 10 worst moments of my life, I'd say 7 involve assholes that take the stall next to you in an empty bathroom. I almost wanted to break the silence code of the bathroom and just ask this guy, "Hey. Buddy. Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" I had to finish my once peaceful, serene morning dump early to get away from this psychopath's shocking bathroom pyrotechnics. My day was never the same.
I used to enjoy my morning dump. My office had a wonderful 6 stall fully loaded set up, with automatic flushers, plenty of stall space, and a friendly janitor named Rodrigo that would come change the rolls and paper-towel dispenser with the pep and enthusiam of a cheerleader. I could relax and read my Bill Simmons print outs or play Bubblebreaker on my cell phone and think about how I would tackle the Pensky file later that day when I felt like actually working. People kept to themselves, there was always space and privacy, and you did not look up when you exited, only walked furiously to the sink, washed up, and rushed out of there like the bathroom was on fire. Now - I am rountinely greeted my happy-go-lucky idiots that want to shoot all types of small talk when you get in there. People siddle up to the stall next to you when there other stalls further down to ensure more privacy. People talk on their phones in between dump sounds. Even one guy goes in there every morning and brushes his teeth. Brushes his teeth! In the discussion of gross things - brushing your teeth in your gross work bathroom amongst paper towels waste, wet countertops, and people deucing left and right - this has got to be a fall of hame induction. My old dorm at Umass had a one shower-one stall situation in one of the basement bathrooms, and if you were ever taking a shower when someone decided to take a shit right next to you, it was like the cleanliness instantly evaporated off your body and was replaced by stranger shit particles. I just puked thinking about it. But I digress - once was once a hallowed peaceful office can has become a dumping ground for..well...dumps.
I know what your thinking. Reece, your taking this shit literally too far. Well call me a cynical shitter, call me a weirdo for appreciating privacy and space during the unholiest of unholies, you can even call me a fecalpheliac for being so obesseed with my stance of dookie stinks. But the problem at my work is so much bigger than that. The office at your office is the last refuge of some men. They have wives, kids, roommates - they can't go home and wretch up their own bathroom. Guys take their shits very seriously. Some go the Constanza route, throwing off articles of clothing to free themselves up. Some guys get so engrossed in a book or magazine, their legs go numb and they forget they were actually taking a dump. Others are in and out, others just need those 5-10-15 minutes to themselves to get away from it all.
I appreciate the few minutes a day I can read an ESPN prinout or some boston.com sport stories while doing my business, and not have to worry about bothering anyone or anyone bothering me. When I need a break in the day, or need to drop some kids off at the pool, I used to grateful to have an office at the office I could call my own. But no more. My office at my office is no more. It's sold out. It's like your favorite bar that used to have a few dusty stool and cheap drafts where nobody bothered you, and has now become a ritzy night club with a cover charge, $9 beers, and too many people. And what sucks is a girl will never understand this. In the same way they swarm the bathroom in packs with their girlfriends, we love the fact it is the exact opposite and none of your boys will be in there to bother you.
So I am saying good bye to my morning dump. I can't relive the scene that happened this morning ever again. Good bye, printed out articles from boston.com from Tony Maz and Fluto Shinzawa. Good bye, bran muffin and heavy coffee in the morning. Good bye killing off fifteen minutes between 11am and lunch. I will only visit my office's office in dire emergencies and for number ones. It's been real, but all good things must come to an end.
-Reece
The final straw happened this morning. I was sitting at my stall, minding my own business while attempting to do my own business, when another gentleman entered. There was no one else in the bathroom, and I was in the first stall from the right. There were 5 - count em, 5 - other stalls to go with. This PRICK saddles right up to the next stall, right next me, so close I could see his disgusting shoes, and preceeds to take a horrifying crap right beside me. We were 2 feet apart. It was one of the worst moments of my life - in fact of the top 10 worst moments of my life, I'd say 7 involve assholes that take the stall next to you in an empty bathroom. I almost wanted to break the silence code of the bathroom and just ask this guy, "Hey. Buddy. Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" I had to finish my once peaceful, serene morning dump early to get away from this psychopath's shocking bathroom pyrotechnics. My day was never the same.
I used to enjoy my morning dump. My office had a wonderful 6 stall fully loaded set up, with automatic flushers, plenty of stall space, and a friendly janitor named Rodrigo that would come change the rolls and paper-towel dispenser with the pep and enthusiam of a cheerleader. I could relax and read my Bill Simmons print outs or play Bubblebreaker on my cell phone and think about how I would tackle the Pensky file later that day when I felt like actually working. People kept to themselves, there was always space and privacy, and you did not look up when you exited, only walked furiously to the sink, washed up, and rushed out of there like the bathroom was on fire. Now - I am rountinely greeted my happy-go-lucky idiots that want to shoot all types of small talk when you get in there. People siddle up to the stall next to you when there other stalls further down to ensure more privacy. People talk on their phones in between dump sounds. Even one guy goes in there every morning and brushes his teeth. Brushes his teeth! In the discussion of gross things - brushing your teeth in your gross work bathroom amongst paper towels waste, wet countertops, and people deucing left and right - this has got to be a fall of hame induction. My old dorm at Umass had a one shower-one stall situation in one of the basement bathrooms, and if you were ever taking a shower when someone decided to take a shit right next to you, it was like the cleanliness instantly evaporated off your body and was replaced by stranger shit particles. I just puked thinking about it. But I digress - once was once a hallowed peaceful office can has become a dumping ground for..well...dumps.
I know what your thinking. Reece, your taking this shit literally too far. Well call me a cynical shitter, call me a weirdo for appreciating privacy and space during the unholiest of unholies, you can even call me a fecalpheliac for being so obesseed with my stance of dookie stinks. But the problem at my work is so much bigger than that. The office at your office is the last refuge of some men. They have wives, kids, roommates - they can't go home and wretch up their own bathroom. Guys take their shits very seriously. Some go the Constanza route, throwing off articles of clothing to free themselves up. Some guys get so engrossed in a book or magazine, their legs go numb and they forget they were actually taking a dump. Others are in and out, others just need those 5-10-15 minutes to themselves to get away from it all.
I appreciate the few minutes a day I can read an ESPN prinout or some boston.com sport stories while doing my business, and not have to worry about bothering anyone or anyone bothering me. When I need a break in the day, or need to drop some kids off at the pool, I used to grateful to have an office at the office I could call my own. But no more. My office at my office is no more. It's sold out. It's like your favorite bar that used to have a few dusty stool and cheap drafts where nobody bothered you, and has now become a ritzy night club with a cover charge, $9 beers, and too many people. And what sucks is a girl will never understand this. In the same way they swarm the bathroom in packs with their girlfriends, we love the fact it is the exact opposite and none of your boys will be in there to bother you.
So I am saying good bye to my morning dump. I can't relive the scene that happened this morning ever again. Good bye, printed out articles from boston.com from Tony Maz and Fluto Shinzawa. Good bye, bran muffin and heavy coffee in the morning. Good bye killing off fifteen minutes between 11am and lunch. I will only visit my office's office in dire emergencies and for number ones. It's been real, but all good things must come to an end.
-Reece
RSS Feed
