Posts from the John

Since you’ve been clamoring for it, once a week I may put up a short, work-related post from the restroom at my place of employment. Enjoy.

At my workplace, there are three stairwells – one on each end of the floor and one in the middle. I would confidently say that we have a plethora of stairways in my building, and I use them regularly. Often, I’ll take the stairs from the ground floor up to my office on the 5^th and vice-versa. Now, when I have to travel from the 5^th floor to the 17^th, there’s no way in hell I’m taking the stairs – that’s a climb on par with K2, and I don’t see any sherpas around here. However, one thing that irks me to no end is that person who rides the elevator to go up or down ONE FLOOR. You’ve got to be kidding me, right? There’s a stairwell thirty feet from the elevator bank, bud. I realize you’re fat. I realize you’re lazy and that you don’t want to y’know, “work” … but you’ll wait upwards of four minutes and stare blankly at the elevator doors to save yourself 22 downhill steps?? I don’t get it.

But those single-floor-hoppers don’t draw my contempt as greatly as a MUCH MORE INFURIATING subset of co-workers: those who absolutely CANNOT wait for you to exit the elevator before they must immediately march in. This may be the rudest act I’ve witnessed in the workplace. Please wait the three seconds until I get out! It’s like elevator rape. In fact, I simply refer to these people as “Sperm Cells” for the way in which they single-mindedly penetrate the egg, er, elevator with complete disregard for anyone getting out. They do not “mind the gap,” as they say in England; they more or less flood the gap in a bukkake of inconsideration and selfishness. I’m already on the elevator – I have the right of way, sperm! Stay out! Luckily, I’ve developed a simple and effective counterattack: to safeguard against unwanted sperm advancement, I’ve begun standing front and center as the elevator doors open, much like a birth control device, or diaphragm, if you will. And every time, the sperm has been surprised by my presence, more or less blocking its entrance. This is when the sperm becomes slightly confused, and in that moment of hesitation, I make my move off the elevator, often throwing a shoulder into the perpetrator. Also, if possible, I will fart as I step out of the elevator in the hope of encasing the sperm in a tomb of stink for its transgression. I WILL NOT BE OUTWITTED, SPERM! Sweet victory is mine!

Thanks for coming and suckling Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
ZJ

Posts from the John

Since you’ve been clamoring for it, once a week I may put up a short, work-related post from the restroom at my place of employment. Enjoy.
How do you decide which urinal to engage? What’s your criteria? For example, in a restroom with three urinals, it’s common knowledge to take one of the ends and stare straight ahead. But what if (like my workplace) you’re in a two-urinal system? Do you know what to look for in a two-urinal room? Assuming both urinals are unoccupied, here are some handy tips to help you select the right urinal for you:

1. During your approach, take a quick, sweeping look. You should be able to compare condition and cleanliness between the two and make a swift–yet tentative–determination. Consider: is one missing a urinal cake? Take the other urinal. Is one urinal constantly running? Take the other urinal.
2. Before you step up to the porcelain plate, check out the batter’s box. Is there a lot of splashback at your feet? If so, this could signal one of three things: a.) poor urinal design, b.) subpar urinal cake placement, or c.) human error. If it’s a or b, there’s likely nothing you can do about it, unless you have the ability to move the cake with the force of your stream. If that’s the case, however, that’s an imprecise exercise at best and likely to make you a victim of your own friendly fire. If the answer is c, take the other urinal rather than straddle the puddle.
3. Note the flush handle. If it’s an automatic flush, you’re golden (tee hee!). If it’s a manual flush, inspect the handle for loose detritus. If you find that it’s wet or in contact with stray pubes, you are permitted to forgo the flush altogether. But what if there is no physical evidence, yet you just don’t trust what’s been on/around that handle? According to the rule book, the “urinator may elect to utilize the foot flush” (Rule 5.03b). This is so much easier accomplished at a toilet, but if you want to give it a go at the urinal, by all means you have that right.

And there you have it. These should be your primary considerations in urinal selection. I just want to remind everyone to be aware of any wild flush-splash … remember, it’s not a water park in there, so give yourself a little room before flushing.

Thanks for coming and suckling Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
ZJ

Posts from the John

Since you’ve been clamoring for it, once a week I may put up a short, work-related post from the restroom at my place of employment. Enjoy.
I’ve always wanted to work in one of those cool, modern office buildings where people skateboard down the hall for a cup of Starbucks, the boss takes the whole office out for skydiving trips, and there’s an unofficial mascot such as a bulldog making daily rounds. Unfortunately for me, the building that houses my workplace is old. Too old to be cool like that. The other day I was wondering to myself just how old my office building is, but I’m far too lazy to do any investigative research.

So I’ve found one of the best ways to determine the age of a building is to examine the placement of the fixtures in the bathrooms; my theory is: the closer the fixtures, the older the building. Back in the old days, nobody had any goddamn personal space, and everything was just crammed in as close as possible. Case in point – the building I work in has restrooms with urinals that are approximately half-an-inch apart, which leads me to believe the building dates back to the 1870s. I’m surprised the builders just didn’t go with one long, wooden trough in there, and maybe leave a bale of hay in the corner just to complete the effect. Anyway, it’s only a two-urinal set-up, so if one urinal is being used, you’re forced to either grab a stall or wedge yourself in there like a pair of AA batteries. No two grown men can stand next to each other in there; at least, not with any sort of dignity. It’s uncomfortably close quarters; after all, you don’t want to rub shoulders with another man while the mascot’s making the rounds, y’know?

Thanks for coming and suckling Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
ZJ

Posts from the John

Since you’ve been clamoring for it, once a week I may put up a short, work-related post from the restroom at my place of employment. Enjoy.
At my workplace, the cafeteria has many points of exit. I like that for a couple of reasons, but mainly because I’m easily able to avoid the people I want to avoid. The restrooms, however, have just one entrance/exit. This makes no sense to me … because oftentimes this design feature works to my disadvantage and the restroom becomes a trap. Without an adequate escape route, I inevitably get cornered into talking to people I don’t want to talk to. And when I’m in a restroom, the next-to-last thing I want to do is talk. But at my workplace, the restroom seems to be a gathering place of sorts. Who are these people who use the restroom as a makeshift conference room? Why do they take it upon themselves to hold lengthy conversations four feet from the urinals and leaning on my stall door?? Keep your meetings out of my john. I’m trying to do business in here, not conduct it. It’s bad enough that I have to put up with toilet paper that is so thin and wispy, it’s like wiping with cotton candy; I don’t need any more aggravation than that. Go talk somewhere else – isn’t that what the designated smoking areas are for?

Thanks for coming and suckling Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
ZJ