NAMES CHANGED TO PROTECT INNOCENT (and guilty)
So the other day.. Monday … I took a moderate-to-massive hoofer in the upstairs terlet. nothing special.. right? well, I clogged the sucker. normally, not a big deal.. let it sit for a few, grab the plunger, hope for the best, then joke about it with the boys.
Oh, the plot chickens.
it’s new-employee-Francine’s first day here, she took over Billy Bob’s desk, which is trouble enough. Srsly. Can’t talk about ball scratching or intestinal malfeasance, rockout to GoatWhore, or discuss the finer points of the new Rammstein video (which, BTW is a full fledged pr0nz0). So anyway…
Now I’m sweating all nervous-like, because I turned a super-hoof-in-water into a viscus brown porridge, and the closet-sized stall is right next to the closet-sized womens stall and here i am totally stinking up the joint, and about a 1/2″ away from having a real horrible overflowing cess-ridden disaster.
“Ok,” I says to myself, “no more plungy-flush… I just gotta plungy-plunge like a bitch till it subsides. i can do this.. put your man-pants on, dude.”
No. No I can’t. Nay, I didn’t. I shut the door and shamefully walk into the boss’s office and tell him what i had just done. I take it upon myself to write up a semi-funny sign for the bathroom, “Maybe humor will take away some of the shame,” I think?
“OUT OF ORDER • GO DOWNSTAIRS • IT’S BAD” I write and follow up with an email to officemom, Hilda. Again with the witty subject.
—–Original Message—–
From: Fred Ralista
Sent: Monday, September 21, 2009 12:09 PM
To: Hilda
Subject: head’s up.Hey Hilda- we’ve been experiencing some progressively bad behavior
with the upstairs men’s room. I think today was the day where the
toilet decided to kill itself. we need helpwe posted an out of order sign, that doesnt fix things.
thansk- FR
Her response:
Fred,
Is it not flushing, overflowing?… big Al is around so please let me
know so I can pass on to him what isn’t working… thanks…k
My Clarification:
it’s not flushing. hasn’t overflowed yet, but who knows.. it’s real angry.
and kinda stinky, too.
OK. Note on the door- Office Mom knows to tell this “Big Al” guy, I should be good… seeing as I work Tuesdays from home, that puts me away from the shame for at least 24 more hours.
Wednesday comes around. I hop downstairs for a coffee refill around ~10-ish. Across the great vast beyond that is the downstairs cubicle farm, “Hey Froderick… did big Al take care of your problem… you know… YOUR TOILET PROBLEM?!”
“Um… my toilet problem?” I kind of meekly question in semi-confusion a la The Big Lebowski.
“Yeah, did he fix your clog?! You said you clogged the toilet in an email and i had him fix it.”
… and that is why, good sirs, I never dropped a codger in high school. people can be so cruel.
