rant

i've worked at the same company
for something like four years now,
and over that time i've witnessed
quite a bit of growth:
we've expanded into new sources of revenue,
pursued new clients and opportunities.
but while the number of employees has soared,
the structure we work in has remained the same
(except for the fact there are desks lining the hallways,
and new offices carved out of old closets...)
but this is just anecdotal, the important thing
is that while our numbers have nearly doubled,
the bathroom is still the same size:
one urinal.
two stalls.

well, thats actually a lie.
truth be told, there's really only one stall.
the two are set up side by side,
but the differences between them are dramatic:
the farther one is handicapped-accessible,
and therefore larger, spacier, and better lit.
it allows one the luxury of walking around a little,
to truly ruminate on whether one's business is over,
and maybe even do a little jig if it so deserves.
the nearer one is smaller, cramped, and dark.
really, its the danny devito next to arnold schwarzenegger.

however, the biggest difference is privacy.
follow me closely here...
if you're sitting in the large stall
and someone sits in the smaller one next to you,
you can see their feet (and consequently know who's pooping),
but because of the angle, they can't see you.
of all the differences between the two,
this is the one that truly tips the scale.

sure, i sound completely neurotic,
but i know i'm not the only one.
whenever i'm in the large stall taking care of things,
i'll hear the bathroom door open, and a quick "guffaw"
or sigh is followed by the sound of the door closing.
they see the little red dot on the door
(to indicate that the large stall is occupied)
and instead of taking the small stall,
they just walk...
people would rather wait
than take the small stall.
which brings me a step closer to my point:

yesterday afternoon, shortly after lunch
(also known as ruch hour in the large stall)
i charged into the bathroom, saw the red dot,
washed my hands in the sink (thats my way of playing it off),
and returned to my edit bay to count the seconds of what
a normal human bowel movement would take.
my second chanrge was equally unsuccessful. red dot.
christ! this wasn't good.
baja burritos with chicken have no mercy.
i returned to my office,
performed some yoga-esque breathing exercises,
waited what felt like an eternity,
and then took to the hallway like a noble
walking to the guillotine.
this was it.
opened door. red dot. defeat.
small stall.
i accepted my sentence with head bowed.

stuffed and cramped into my dungeon,
i started playing my song of farts and splashes,
and it slowly dawned on me, i was playing a solo concert.
the audicity of this fucker.
was he reading? did he fall asleep?
aw shit...

was anyone even there?

with deft skill, or complete ignorance,
someone had made the door look like it was occupied,
when in fact, it was utterly vacant.
i don't know how many suffered that afternoon,
on the ninth day of february,
but i am sure it was many.
i was there.
i was one them.