I hate work.
Is that superfluous to say? Does the word "work" imlpy boredom, hatred, and resentment?
To keep my grip on sanity today I gave myself some projects:
1. Develop ambi-10 key skills.
2. See how long it takes for stuff to begin composting in my "in" box.
3. See how long it takes for the second hand to make it around the clock.
4. Develop a viable philosophy about toilets (see below).
God, I hope no one from my job reads this...
On a different note, we have a new hiree in the office. It used to be that the office people were all
ladies. In January the first guy was hired, and then recently we hired Paul, the new guy.
That's when the toilet wars began.
I should have known there would be trouble when on Paul's first day,I went to go to the bathroom
and saw the little pink post-it note pasted on the tank, written in stern hand writing: "Please put
the seat down." The seat was down for about half the day. The next day, another note, again
written forcefully: "Please put the seat down!" That one was left there with equally temporary
results.
The next day Jean (the author of the note) pulls me aside. "I wish he'd put the seat down,"
she says emphatically.
The other Anne overhears and comes out into the hallway. "I know," she says, "it's so rude."
I ponder this thought. True, it's gross and kind of a pain in the ass to have to put the seat down
every time I go to pee. But it must be equally annoying for the guy to have to put it up every time.
I myself used to live with a guy who never put the seat down until one unhappy time when I went
to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and got a rather embarassing ass dunking. After
that, it was decided that the seat should be left down, for safety reasons.
"I suppose it depends," I chime in. The ladies turn their fierce eyes onto me. I reconsider. Do I really
want to tread on this most volatile of subjects?
But it's too late. "On what?" they demand.
"On what the default is for the toilet seat. I mean, is the default to have the seat up, or the seat
down?"
They look at me as if I am not one of them. "Well I'm going to talk to him if he keeps it up," Jean
says. I go back into my office. I have better things to do. Like stare at the clock.
By the fourth day, Paul has figured out who is responsible for that note. The seat stays down until
Jean is gone, and then it flies up again. Except when he forgets. Or maybe is sick of it and is trying
to cheerfully disregard what has been as the official seat position endorsed by the company.
On the sixth day, I sigh as I put the seat down to pee. Oh Paul, I think, give it up boy.
You're fighting a battle you can never win.