Chronically Ironic

·The Stinky Bathroom

I used to work at a large fuse manufacturer that will remain nameless in St. Louis. I kind of worked my way up through the ranks of customer service, and after a year, I applied for a position in a division that was like the red-headed stepchild of the company. I got the position, and instantly loved all the people I worked with (minus 1, but she will stand alone in another story.)

The facility we worked at housed a huge manufacturing plant, a warehouse, and headquarters, and the Bastard Child Division was in a teeny tiny corner of the giant plant. We were as far away from the rest of the white collar folks as possible. I don’t know if it was shame or retardedness that kept us there, but after so long, we were used to it and actually preferred it to being around the rest of the dilldos. We had few rules, we were friends, and it was an amazing place to work at 25 years old with very little experience. Our boss was a gruff Yankee from Gloucester, and he talked just like a guy out of a bar on the Eastern Seaboard. He was a character, and really laid back – and we all respected the shit out of him.

We were stuck back in that corner, and not far away was a conference room that could hold about 200 people. They would have product meetings with engineers, etc. from time to time, and there was a restroom area right next to it. It was the closest restroom for us to use. One day, as I was coming out of the restroom, my friend Dianne was coming into the foyer right in front of the restroom/conference room area. I looked at her and screwed up my face in a “thizz face” fashion and said – no – shouted in my best Midwestern Missouri accent, “I LEFT IT REAL STINKY FOR YA!!!!” We both cracked up and then she looked over her shoulder and immediately shut up, for behind us, with the door wide open, was a conference room full of outside salespeople and engineers (mostly men,) their faces in slack-jawed shock.

I ran out the door, not looking back.

We have told that story for going on 10 years now, and it’s still a classic workplace faux-pas that I have gotten a lot of mileage from. I will always remember that job and my friends, just as I’m sure that room full of men will never forget the girl who took a shit and announced it to the world.

Work is a Four-Letter Word