I took two days vacation last week, to stretch my weekend to a portly five days. Actually, it was more like five and a half, but there’s no need to showboat.
However… on the very first morning, I woke up sick. It wasn’t anything horrible – just a bad cold – but how’s that for timing? It couldn’t have been more perfect. I was snotty and achy and run-down. No fun.
But I went into it with a long to-do list, and got almost everything finished. It was time well-spent – even though I was snorkeling runaway fluids back into my nasal cavity all day, every day. It was a bit of a struggle, but I was determined not to waste my vacation.
And when it was time to return to work on Sunday… I felt all better. I thought Allen Funt was going to emerge from behind a partition, convulsed in laughter. Wotta rip-off.
I set up my new Droid Bionic during the week, and it wasn’t easy. I had to install a SIM card, and a memory card, with no useable directions. It was frustrating, but I finally got it to work – with the help of a YouTube tutorial. Lameness, man. At a couple of points on Thursday I was ready to flip-out, and maybe burn the house down.
I had to activate the 4G network, then the phone… who the hell knows? It was extremely convoluted, and unlike any phone I’d ever activated before. Who’s running this crap, one of Obama’s czars? It was unnecessarily complicated.
I used the back-up assistant, and most of my information transferred to the new phone. All of the contacts (I think) migrated, and the photos, but only about half of the apps. I had to go in and download a bunch of them again, and try to remember what username/password I chose the first time ‘round. The whole thing was fairly aggravating.
Also, when I was ordering the phone online, they were trying to get me to ditch my old unlimited data plan, for a new 4GB plan. The website made it seem like I didn’t have a choice, but I called their 800 number, anyway. And the dude admitted that I was grandfathered in to the unlimited version.
“Why does it say I MUST change?” I asked.
“They want you on the limited plan,” he said.
“But I don’t have to go on it?”
“Even though it says I do?”
So, if you’re planning to upgrade your Verizon phone soon, beware of the dodgy 4GB data switch. If you already have unlimited data, make sure you hang on to it. The website specifically says you MUST change, and the old plan is not compatible with your new phone. But it’s not true.
Seriously… are the czars involved?
But after I got it up and running, I was loving the new phone. It’s super-fast and powerful, and I’m now able to use my Amazon Cloud drive, like a gigantic iPod in the sky. I have unlimited space for music and I’ve already got 80GB of music uploaded to it – and sending more every day. Eventually I’ll have my entire music collection saved to that thing, and will be able to access it with any phone or computer I ever buy in the future. I should probably include my Cloud password in my last will and testament…
When I returned to work, I had about ten emails about boogers on the bathroom wall. Apparently people go in there, sit on the toilet, and flick snot balls at the adjacent wall. And how freaking disgusting is that? The whole place was in an uproar about it.
Someone from facilities reportedly went in with a rotary sander and a welder’s helmet, and sheared off the stucco o’ boogs. And now they’re keeping an eye on things, and have vowed to capture this Jack the Flicker, if he doesn’t knock it off. Or Jaqueline, I suppose, since it’s a unisex bathroom. Somehow, though, you just know it’s a guy… Blechh.
And I’m going to use that as the inspiration for our Question of the Day. In the comments section, please tell us the most memorable – or remarkable – work bathroom stories you know.
In Atlanta someone walked in on a warehouse employee, while he was waxing his dolphin. His defense? “I was just relaxing.” This, of course, only made matters worse, and “relaxing” became a euphemism for beating-off at that place for at least the next decade. Heh. They wouldn’t let up on the poor bastard, and he eventually stopped coming to work.
And, at the same job, I worked with a guy named Scott who would fly into a sustained rage every time he walked into the men’s room, to find it “all shitted-up.” He’d get visibly angry, and start shouting that everybody who worked there needed to see a “physician.” Every time the bathroom was funky, he’d go wild. And it was a fun thing to watch.
Do you have any work bathroom tales to tell? If so, please use the comments section below.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
Treat yourself at Amazon: US and Canada
Happy Tuesday, Surfers!
A. Vandelay says
Hahahaha, Jeff! [nsfw]
Also CONGRATS on remaining unlimited!
No bathroom tales, other than I heard BATTLE SHITS has been recently banned from certain high school lavatories. Heh.
Sebastian K. says
Not workplace related, but school related (hopefully that counts):
I remember one time, during recess, one of my friends came up to me and said “Hey guys, you need to come check this out before the janitors come get it!”. Even at the ripe old age of eight, I wondered what could be so amazing that the janitor’s would have to come deal with it. I asked “Where is it, Curtis?”, and he responded “Boys bathroom, west wing”. My best buds and I hightailed it over there, to find possibly the hugest, most pipe cloggingly piece of shit I ever laid my eyes on.
Not only was the beast long (at least two feet long), it was also a good two or three inches thick. A few assholes had dumped a couple of rolls of toiled paper around it, and flushed it, causing the entire stall to flood with shit water. We stared at this behemoth in pure awe, wondering who the hell’s asshole could unleash such a gargantuan thing.
While my jackass friends attempted to flush the beast, it only caused more shit water to come out, and pieces of the turd came flowing out of the porcelain bowl. We ran out of the restroom, hoping that none of the custodians would catch us and force us to clean up the mess that some sicko created.
After debating for a good week, we figured that one of the upperclassman (which to us was a sixth grader) was responsible for the mess.
The Elvis and Joan Jett pics are keepers. I’ve seen thousand pics of El, and I’ve never seen that one. A treat.
My favorite piece of bathroom wall poetry:
I’m the janitor in this stinking place
And I’d like to smash your f***ing face
If you’re the guy who jerks his balls
And shoots all over my fresh-scrubbed walls.
I think he’s not doing it quite right.
WB in OH says
Years ago there was a guy at work who would put toilet paper in the bowl, kind of like a nest then take a big curly q dump on his nest. He became known as the birdman, he became a legend, he got fired once they finally caught him in a sting operation.
Evil Twin's Wife says
At the Evil Twin’s place of employment, several years ago, one of his coworkers found a pair of badly skidded blue BVDs hanging from a volt switch in the maintenance room. Of course, all the co-workers were swindled into parading past and witnessing the vile crime.
A few weeks later, there was a tube sock, covered in diarrhea, laying ON TOP of the trash can in the men’s room.
Fast forward a couple of weeks and again, the sock situation. The office was all a titter about who could be the “Mad Shitter”. But., after the 3rd incidence, many employees complained to upper management about the hygiene issues.
No one was ever caught, but one employee, who had a 2nd job at Taco Bell quit shortly thereafter and the Mad Shitter never came back…..
Just a couple of weeks ago the non english speaking folks that clean our office reported that there was a “poopie” on the floor. Not a big poopie but a small poopie. They said they had already picked up said poopie and that all is well. Of course it was in the men’s room, but we have a fairly small office and it is had to imagine who would have shit on the floor.
How does a turdlet even make it’s way out of the toilet?
My boyfriend worked in a large post office, and things were always happening in the bathrooms. One morning there was a large turd on the floor of the ladies’ room. Not even in a stall, just out there by the sinks. Of course, everyone blamed it on the fattest lady who worked there, which didn’t make any sense to me. He said, “Maybe it just fell out of her.” But she was wearing clothes… My theory was that a male (it had to be) snuck in there during the night and shit on the floor. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.
In a college bar bathroom, I once saw….
DON’T DROP ACID!!!
(take it pass/fail)
I used to work at a Texas based computer company that rhymes with HELL. While “making bears” one day, I heard one of the maintenance guys come in to tidy up. After he finished replacing paper towels and such, he stepped up to the urinal to sling a bit. He started making the most G*d awful grunting and whining noises….like he was passing a sea urchin or something. THAT dude needed to see a urologist and STAT. He must have had a “prostrate” the size of a cantalope. Gave me the willies…
Maybe he was jerkin’ his gherkin to some kind of Steven King fantasy.
I used to work in a physician’s office where the employee’s bathroom sink only had cold water for hand washing. After a few years the cold water stopped working and we had to walk to the kitchen area to wash our hands. But my favorite was the morning I found a dead mouse drowned in the toilet. No worries – the patient bathrooms were clean and fully functional.
I got a new phone a couple of weeks ago went to the Verizon store handed them my old phone and they handed me back my new phone all set and ready to go. Didn’t cost any extra. No aggravation at all… just sayin’ .
Phil Jett says
A co-worker named Rick, first week on the job, was caught masterbating in one of the stalls. His wife was still living in another state and he said that he missed her. His name was Richard Skinner, forever know after that as Dick.
Dick Skinner – that should make you men quiver.
Do a google image search on “Fourniers Gangrene”
WARNING: NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH
The Wikipedia article is unpleasant enough, and it’s written in clinical language, no pictures.
I got a new phone right after christmas. I like the phone but an errant jeager shot has turned the speaker into a whisper. They said I was grandfathered in to the unlimited data plan, the girl got the 2 gig plan with an auto upgrade to 4 gig, she never gets higher than about 3.
And unless you can go into full lockdown, don’t “relax” at work.
Why would these dumb asses rub one out at work…especially in an office setting?? What? They can’t wait to get home or at least during the drive home in rush hour traffic? Jeez!
I worked in a gyne office some years ago. One of the docs was a little “dirty”….like wash your ass, why don’t ya, dirty. She took her morning, after a pot of coffee poop in the employees bathroom. She walked out and one of the secretaries, who happened to be preggo and going through morning sickness, walked right in. A second later she throws the door open, runs down the hallway and barf’s in the copier trash can. The shit smell permeated down the hallway. We all were gagging. The doc went about her business like nothing happened.
Now I’m gonna have to rub one out thinking of that!
One of the secretaries down the hall took a dump and left a floater. I walked in and turned right around and walked out but the goddamn stench clung to my nostril lining for hours.
Just keep it off the wall(s)!
On one side of the building they were renovating all of the bathrooms to be fully automated. The kind of toilets that flush mid-piss. Then the soap, water and towels all spurt out the aforementioned in portions that are just small enough to make you sit there pumping and hand waving 17 more times.
But I digress.
Anyway, on the main floor they were working on the restrooms and for some inexplicable reason, they had the old toilet out in the middle of the lobby. For hours. It was a well worn path and plunk dab in the middle was an old chipped crapper.
I’m proud to say I started it… I bought a Baby Ruth from the vending machine and unwrapped it and tossed it in. Someone threw a lemonade (or was it grapefruit juice?) Tootsie Rolls followed and someone was even brilliant enough to put in wet shredded wheat. It was glorious.
Some stick up the ass dweeb complained and a memo was released. I sweated it out for a day or two thinking I would surely get my ass hauled in to the manager’s office.
That is too awesome; can’t stop laughing.
Here’s another gross story that happened to my sister. She ran into a stall at school, closed the door and right there at eye level was a stuck on used Kotex. I think she stayed mad for a month.
I was a burger slinger at Wendy’s when I was a teenager. I was doing my usual stuff when the manager came up to me and said he needed me to take care of something. Behind him was one of the other crew members. She kept saying “I am NOT cleaning that up! No way in hell!” There was a…situation in the ladies’ bathroom. Normally I didn’t pull bathroom duty but I guess I was still “the new guy” and was being called up for special service. Some gal with some intestinal issues had almost made it to the bowl but assploded before she did. Green, black and runny all over the entire back of the stall. Yeah I cleaned it up. I’ll never forget that day.
Must have been in the “Super Bar” days; that thing never failed to make my college boyfriend and I both sick. Yet we kept eating there…
I once saw a guy walk into a putrid restroom while eating a salad. Holding the plate with one hand, shoveling with the other, he stood at a urinal. He wasn’t doing his business mind you, he was just finishing lunch. Once done with that, he put the plate on the porcelain, unzipped and got on with it. Yum, salad.
That brings up a painful memory. I was on the subway looking at some woman’s open runny sores on her legs and the chick next to her eating french fries. I almost heaved right there and then.
A few years ago a co-worker went into the (shared-building) bathroom to find someone with his (soiled) pants around his ankles sitting in the sink backwards rinsing himself off. Said co-worker pulled one of these and bid a hasty retreat.
And then there was the time I heard the guy, um, next door, loudly eating chips. You could hear the bag crinkling and him chewing over the thundering (the room’s a 6 holer so there’s a lot going on).
I don’t know if that’s worse than the guy I heard eating an apple in there.
Probably the same guy.
eL ME says
There is a female supervisor in my office that is the biggest *B* you’ve ever met! One day, she started yelling at one of my friends/co-workers in front of the entire office. It was so demeaning and completely uncalled for. Later that day, I was in the women’s room and the same *B* supervisor came rushing in. She proceded to have probably the worst case of the squirts I have ever been witness to! Even though I had to run out of there gagging, it put a smile on my face. Karma was literally a pain in her ass that day. And you can bet I told the ENTIRE office! She lost a bit of her authority (amung other things) that day.
Swami Bologna says
This is appropriate to today’s topic:
My office has, I think, 12 bathrooms and they are all single-user. As a result, we’re kind of light on crapper hijinks. Nothing to see here, folks.
Oh, and Jeff – I’m sure that it’s all whiz-bang snazzy to have stuff in the “cloud”, but make sure you also have copies of everything locally in case the “clouds” should “clear up” one day. Having backups is the difference between a disaster and an inconvenience. Just sayin’.
Years back, a (male) coworker told me that there was a “booger wall” in the men’s room. We were working weekends at the time so he took me in to show me. It was amazing. There must have been over a thousand boogers all on this one wall. It was a mural. I have to think that, due to the volume, it must have been a group effort. I still work at the same company and from what I hear, the boogers were finally scaped off and the wall repainted. Yick!
Harry "Snapper" Organs says
here’s a funny Haiku, courtesy of one of my friends in the PFN (Pooping Friends Network) describing one of his coworkers
Meet the fifth floor freak
OCD. Peter Beater.
You Whiz, step in jizz!
In the last building I worked in, we had a men’s room flicker in our midst. One of my more disgusted co-workers put up a picture of Mr T with a caption something like “I pity the fool that doesn’t use tissues!” It worked a treat.