The Case of the Bathroom Banger Bandit

I don't usually blog about trips to the bathroom (I normally just save that for twitter), but something happened today that has tested my patience and my sanity (as you'll see later). If you easily get grossed out by me talking about sitting on the toilet or "doing my business" you might just skip this post and wait around for Haikuesday tomorrow where I'll probably post about flowers or something.

Okay, excellent. Since all the weak of heart people just left, I'll get into the nitty gritty of it.

There are 2 things you need to know about me:

1. My Job Sucks. I'm pretty much stressed out ALL the time, because as soon as I walk into my office and I'm mauled by attacking files that all need to be done RIGHT NOW I want to just walk right back out the door.

2. I hate Loud Noises. I wear earplugs to concerts, and I will put my fingers in my ears at movies sometimes. What I hate most though is unexpected loud noises. Even dropping the shampoo bottle in the shower can freak me out royally. And by "freaked out" I mean I have the sudden urge to a) punch something or b) cry. Or sometimes punch something, then cry because my hand hurts.

So back to the story. Because of item #1, when I take a restroom break, I use that time not only as a time to "do my business," but also as time to "de-stress." I can "sit," take some deep breaths and remember how to relax again. And aside from the weird lady who comes in and starts whispering to herself, or the people that choose to throw away their leftover Indian Food in the bathroom garbage, this method generally works out pretty well.

Well today, I was sitting in my favorite stall, "doing my business" and thinking calm thoughts, when I heard

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.

on the door. (It was not the B-52's.) Somebody was POUNDING on the door. Straight up pounding. Then a male voice piped up "Anybody in there?"

Okay, remember Item #2? Before I could help myself, I started to shake and I croaked out "I.....I'm in here. Excuse me."

I was totally about to do the crying freak out. I could already feel the tears welling up when I heard him say,

"Eh, we'll just come back later."

Later??? My brain was racing and suddenly I felt under pressure to finish immediately. So much for my peaceful 5 minutes of bathroom time. As I tried to calm myself down, another woman came in and did a speed-pee. (A speed-pee is when you actually wonder if her butt made it to the pot before pee started spilling out.) She had come in, out, washed her hands and left by the time I was standing up to flush. Then

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG

"I'M STILL IN HERE!!!!!!" I yelled.

The whole Anger part of the freak out was upon me now. I flushed, slammed the stall door and washed my hands in a really angry fashion (This is possible, you just have to splatter water all over and look mean while you do it), just thinking of what I was going to say to the person who had been so rudely interrupting me. I stormed out of the bathroom, but the hallway was empty.

Now I feel like I've missed my opportunity to teach this guy a lesson. It would have been great to tell this guy about manners and about how banging was not polite. After brooding about this for the last hour, I've come up with a plan.

The Plan:

I will innocently go to the bathroom, not bothering to look down the hallway to see if the Bathroom Banger Bandit is hidden behind the water fountain. Of course, I'll already have been spying out my office window, so I'll know he's there. Then, I'll wait in my favorite stall for the familiar pounding to start again. At this point, I'll remain quiet instead of identifying myself. Puzzled, the Banger Bandit will take a step or two inside the bathroom, and that's when I'll strike!! I'll jump screaming from the toilet seat, tampons in both hands. Before he knows what's happening, I'll stick the tampons up his nose and put a maxi-pad over his mouth to keep him from yelling. Then when his howls of pain and humiliation are muffled, I will tie him up with toiletpaper and protective seat covers. I'll leave him like that, tied up in the handicapped stall (nobody ever uses it) so he won't be found for days and as he sits on the cold floor, tears streaming down his face and tampons still sticking up his nose, he'll realize that he should NEVER pound on the ladies bathroom door. Never. Ever. Again.

Vengeance can be so sweet.

-Over and Out-

A Haikuesday Bluesday...

I am having a terrible time concentrating today. So instead of putting on headphones and blocking out the world to attempt to tackle the mountain of work on my desk, I've decided to reinstate Haikuesday. Here are a few Haikus regarding why I'm having a hard time getting any work done today.

The Annoying Co-Workers
a set of 3 haikus
(By Me)

Want to whisper next

to my desk and drive me mad?

Great. The line forms there.

Ears hear: Murmering

My head thinking: Murdering

Can I go home yet??

Turn up the music

But they just raise their voices

L. E. A. V. E.

And...they are still there.

My self control is being tested today. Hopefully, this time tomorrow I will be in the office and won't be on the run from the cops for taping everyone's mouths shut.

-Over and Out-

Haikuesday 4/20/2010 (Needing Some Instruction...)

Another day, another Haiku.

Work today has been rough. I've been having a pretty "Bi-Polar" relationship with my job for the past year (Up and Down Mood Swings). Lately though, despite paycuts and general unhappiness, I had been in the midst of an upward swing. Unfortunately today I was told that the one person that could have kept our company afloat is leaving, and with that news, my good mood left too. Now I've been staring at my work screen and wondering what to do (both in terms of job and the work I'm supposed to be accomplishing). I know I need to leave this dead end job, and I've known this for a long time, but I just hate having the fact reinforced so blatantly.

So since I'm getting ready to start up the job search, I've written a couple of haikus to commemorate the occasion.

Bob (by me)
Bob can be happy
With only baseball and beer
Why do I need more?

The Hunt (by me)
I am now convinced
The greatest of Grimm's fables
Is the perfect job.

And because I've been feeling a little lost all day, I thought I'd include "Instructions" by Neil Gaiman in today's post. The poem was recently made into a picture book with illustrations by Charles Vess, and it's definitely worth picking up. The illustrations are beautiful and you can purchase it on Amazon here.

Instructions (by Neil Gaiman)
Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never
saw before.
Say "please" before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted
front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat
nothing.
However, if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can,
ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the
wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads to Winter's
realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the
wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-
growth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She
may ask for something;
give it to her. She
will point the way to the castle.
Inside it are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.
In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve
months sit about a fire,
warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December's frost.
Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where
you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferry-
man will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to
leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister.
Know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble from
one's lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.
Do not lose hope - what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped
to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.
When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is
why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the place your
journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the garden gate
you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.
And rest.

I have always loved the line about "Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall). Ride the silver fish (you will not drown). Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur)." How wonderful it would be to have my own guidebook and a reassuring voice in life right about now.

Anyone else in need of some guidance lately, and have you had any luck finding it?

-Over and out-