Desperation

I am desperate to have something else on my home page so bear with me while I bore you with trivial blabber.

There has been a passive aggressive sort of battle happening in the office restrooms. I work in an office building and would like to think that my colleagues are not involved, but I don’t really care. I’m not involved, until today. Today I want to get involved.

Let me explain. Every so often, a sticky note or taped piece of scrap paper will appear in the bathroom. It usually says something like leaving toilet paper on the ground is childish – clean up after yourself or is it really that hard to throw paper towels in the garbage? Is it childish to leave toilet paper on the floor? Yeah, probably. But let’s face facts. The crappy 1-ply sandpaper that’s provided combined with the dispenser with plastic teeth so worn down you couldn’t slice a banana can result in the occasional shred of tp fluttering to the floor. Not only is not worth the current effort it takes to bend my body anywhere near the floor to try and pick it up, but the fact that someone else is paid to come in and clean the bathrooms and sweep up those little flutters makes it pointless. But I shrug my shoulders and smile at the equally childish decision to waste time leaving the bathroom, huff and puff and boil all the way back to your desk, write a pointless note, and then return to the bathroom to stick it on the stall door. Or worse, do these women come in armed with paper and tape just waiting for something to be wrong?

But this week, a whole new level was reached. Instead of the odd post-it, someone printed signs. On 8 1/2 by 11 paper. In large font. “There’s no need to hover as there is a cover, but if you must… PLEASE be neat and wipe the seat.” These are taped to the back of each stall door. The sentiment behind the sign is fine, whatever. As if a piece of paper is going to stop someone from hovering. Or encourage them to touch their own pee on a seat that they are fearful of touching when it was CLEAN! But if it makes you feel better to anonymously lecture others, feel free. But today. Oh today. I went into the stall as I usually do. I hung my keys on the hook above the sign as a I usually do. And when I brought my hand down, my ring finger caught and gave me a nice long deep paper cut all the way across the tip underneath my finger nail.

Today I wanted to smear the blood that immediately leaked out all over the sign. Maybe I’d try to write something snarky back in blood, like thanks for the death trap you mental middle schooler. I hope they’re happy, exposing a pregnant lady to a wide variety of bacteria through an open wound they caused. Instead, I decided to take the big girl approach and wash my hands immediately and then come back and write a passive aggressive post to the entire internet. Cuz that’s what grown-ups do.

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