In a past life I was involved in a high powered corporate job. During the time at Megacorp we were given all sorts of extracurricular training. Much of it was the typical rah rah stuff that so many companies ply their employees with. Don’t get me wrong, some of it is pretty good stuff. Upon occasion I was even able to take their advice and immediately apply it to my life.
One of these days I’ll share more about my experiences at Megacorp, but for now allow me to reminisce about what one motivational speaker shared at a sales meeting. He told us all that success in life was solely based upon having a positive attitude. “Smile at every surprise and they will always be positive experiences
Well color me disappointed and pissed off with that advice because no matter how hard I try it doesn’t translate well into each situation.
Sometimes it is hard to put the happy spin on the events of your life. One day I was unpleasantly surprised to learn that someone had stolen my car stereo. Another time I was unpleasantly surprised to learn that a good friend had been killed in an automobile accident.
But that is far too serious a tone for this post. What I intend to write about is the bathroom surprise. Yes my friends, it is that time again, bathroom post time.
This afternoon I found myself responding to a desperate call of nature. I had thought that I would wait to take of my personal needs until I returned home, but the dysfunctional digestive gods laughed at my desire and thus I was forced into another public bathroom adventure.
I have a little game that I play in public bathrooms. I pretend that no one else has used the toilet. Yes, I know that it is silly, but I am rather particular about where I place my behind even if it be upon the crinkly, crackly wax paper covers provided by Bobrick. Full disclosure: I am not being paid by Bobrick or anyone to write this post.
A gentle rumble reminded me that time was of the essence so I carefully navigated across a few lanes of traffic and found a local establishment that I like to frequent. As I parked the car another rumble emanated from my belly and I knew that I was going to need to hustle. So as I headed to the Men’s room I carefully unhooked my belt and prepared to do battle for my own stall because you never know when you might find yourself stuck to the seat.
And then I entered the room itself, this den of stinky-stank. Slowly I turned, inch-by-inch, step-by-step I headed towards the middle stall. With a gentle push the door opened and I received one of those unpleasant surprises I mentioned earlier.
Remnants of a prior visitor greeted my eyes. That is most definitely not what I wanted to see. Call me what you will, but the entire stall was now tainted and all I wanted to do was leave. Instead I was momentarily paralyzed. The last thing I wanted to do was touch anything there, but at the same time I knew that I shouldn’t just leave it. Truth is that I wanted to, I really did.
My reverie was broken by the sound of the door opening. Now I knew that I had to be the master flusher because if I didn’t it was a given that the newcomer would think that I was the phantom pooper.
Ok, I just ran out of steam. My apologies, but I can’t figure out a suitable ending for this crap so I am going to just let it go here.