my experiences in the toilet / watch this space
A sign upon the door of the toilet cubicle in the gents at work advised the user to 'flush two or three times'. It didn't seem to do anything. Eventually, a guy came in to repair it. Or I assume, judging from the sounds coming from in there, that this was what he was doing. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Really quite spectacularly wrong with him.
A few months ago, someone wrote 'fuck this' in really tiny very careful letters just above the urinal. It seemed an odd sort of act, as though they wanted to protest but were worried someone would notice. Perhaps that's what this place does to you.
One afternoon this week I went in the toilet purely to wash up my mug (because they took our sink away when the office was extended) and there was someone in there, pissing in the urinal. It made no sense, but I felt vaguely disgusted.
This week has offered non-stop excitement. A wasp flew in to the office and Health and Safety (usually so keen to protect us) were nowhere to be seen. Somebody advised turning off the light, and this worked almost immediately: it flew right out again.
There was also our monthly briefing, which is like a teleconference where only one person (mainly) speaks. Such things seem to be haunted by incongruous sounds on the line, and this was no exception: a clicking of snooker balls, a shrill burst of feedback, faint orgasmic sighs... At one point someone from another call altogether wandered in, said hello, then vanished. I forget his name.
I dreamed (not while I was in the office) that I was back working at Waterstone's. Someone was offering to show me how to go through 'the Mr. Men packs'. I woke up screaming. Later in the week, I bumped into an ex-colleague. She said that it was taking ages to order anything, and that there was a smell from the basement. Well they can't blame me, whatever they find. At that time, it was company policy to take uncooperative customers down there and shoot them in the head.
Wasn't it?
Perhaps I'd better leave town just in case. Or at least move. Expect not to read anything here for a while, as we will experience internet loss for the customary month or so. Dave went round to see the landlord last week and was asked the usual question about how he lost his leg, and the landlord sympathised to such an extent that he stroked, at some length, Dave's arm.
And this is the guy we're hoping will have a well-developed sense of boundaries.
A few months ago, someone wrote 'fuck this' in really tiny very careful letters just above the urinal. It seemed an odd sort of act, as though they wanted to protest but were worried someone would notice. Perhaps that's what this place does to you.
One afternoon this week I went in the toilet purely to wash up my mug (because they took our sink away when the office was extended) and there was someone in there, pissing in the urinal. It made no sense, but I felt vaguely disgusted.
This week has offered non-stop excitement. A wasp flew in to the office and Health and Safety (usually so keen to protect us) were nowhere to be seen. Somebody advised turning off the light, and this worked almost immediately: it flew right out again.
There was also our monthly briefing, which is like a teleconference where only one person (mainly) speaks. Such things seem to be haunted by incongruous sounds on the line, and this was no exception: a clicking of snooker balls, a shrill burst of feedback, faint orgasmic sighs... At one point someone from another call altogether wandered in, said hello, then vanished. I forget his name.
I dreamed (not while I was in the office) that I was back working at Waterstone's. Someone was offering to show me how to go through 'the Mr. Men packs'. I woke up screaming. Later in the week, I bumped into an ex-colleague. She said that it was taking ages to order anything, and that there was a smell from the basement. Well they can't blame me, whatever they find. At that time, it was company policy to take uncooperative customers down there and shoot them in the head.
Wasn't it?
Perhaps I'd better leave town just in case. Or at least move. Expect not to read anything here for a while, as we will experience internet loss for the customary month or so. Dave went round to see the landlord last week and was asked the usual question about how he lost his leg, and the landlord sympathised to such an extent that he stroked, at some length, Dave's arm.
And this is the guy we're hoping will have a well-developed sense of boundaries.
posted by martin at 12:29 PM
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