At my old job, we had four floors and four bathrooms. The "basement" and the second floor were communal, with two stalls and two sinks a piece. The first and third floor had private bathrooms, one on the first floor, and two on the third that were probably supposed to be seperated for each sex but were informally unisex, mostly because the women on the floor outnumbered the men and most of us weren't going to wait for a bathroom to open up when there was a perfectly good open one right next to. I think the lack of labels all helped in that aspect as well.
When I first started, I had the luxury of working on the third floor. I say this because the private bathroom was a luxury. Being able to go in, lock the door, do whatever business you need to do, wash your hands then leave was comfortable and private and exactly how I like my work bathroom experience to be.
About halfway through my tenure, I was moved to the second floor - the floor with the communal bathroom. And unless it was a dire emergency, I still walked up to the third floor or down to the first. It was that important to maintain that privacy.
Now, at this job, we have only communal bathrooms. No matter what floor your on, there are two stalls - a handicapped which is nice and roomy and a small and cramped one that you can barely turn around in.
And I hate it!
Don't get me wrong, I've never been one of those girls who can't potty in public. Granted, I'm not about to announce my business to an entire crowd or come back exclaiming about a crowning acheivement I just left in the porcelain. But I take the philosophy that if you gotta go, you gotta go and sometimes, you need to find a bathroom in Wal-Mart. Or the woods, which I've done my fair share of as well (not for sport, mind you, but camping + beer = trees and leaves since there are no porta potties in sight).
I'd also like to point out that public bathrooms at places like Wal-Mart or a restaurant or an amusement park don't bother me. Everyone coming in and out are strangers to each other and it is a rarity to find a complete stranger who willingly wants to interact with you in a public bathroom. And there is a minimal chance that you will ever see any of them again. And no one is judging you because hey, we all are human and we all are in the same situation.
The work bathrooms bother me. It's the social stigma of having to conduct very private business in a semi-social place with people who you see everyday. I don't like to converse with people in the bathroom. I don't like knowing that someone I see and chat with everyday might be conducting their private business next to me.
It's the questions. Will they think I'm rude if I choose not to speak to them? Do I have to say anything at all? Are they thinking the smell that here when I came in is me? Can they tell it's me by my shoes?
Seriously, I get extremely paranoid and freaked out. When I hear footsteps down the hall, I tense up. I don't move if someone comes in and I have been known just to hang out in the stall until they leave, even though I was there first. I've wondered if they can see the my reflection from their stall as they look at the shared polished marble floors. I've been overly paranoid that they can see through the crack in the door hinge because it's right next to the sink and the toilet in the stall is positioned to where if you are in there, you can look out and see who is washing their hands. I've been known to put the hood of my little sweater over my head in cases like these, lest they peek through that crack and realize it's me in there.
It sounds weird, I know. And it really has nothing to do with being embarassed about the act itself but more about the overall invasion of privacy that I feel. I want to remain anonymouse because I'm so paranoid that someone is going to use that opportunity to inquire about why their email isn't working or whether they can get some computers and a phone set up in the training room. And the last thing I was is to schedule work tasks while I'm trying to go potty.
Because what do I say later if I forget? Sorry, I was concentrating on peeing when you asked me that.
And it would look totally weird if I brought a pen and pad to bathroom.
At my old job, we had a problem with poo being spread all over places that weren't the toilet. Yes, I know, great story right? But seriously, it would get on the walls and on napkins the trash can. And it was kind of gross. It was a mystery how it got there. No one could fathom how bad it had to be for it not to reach the toilet. Everyone assumed it was this older woman in the office who we most likely thought wore the adult diapers and had a hard time cleaning herself up.
The point of telling that rather gross story - and trust me, it was much more awful to be there than to hear about it - is to say that people talk about stuff like that. And that only heightens my paranoia. Because I don't want people talking about my private bathroom adventures. And even now in my office, the guys will come back talking about how someone stunk up their bathroom or how someone else thought it was kosher to start a conversation with them while they were both standing at the urinals. And us girls know that there is someone who is on a 2pm (or roundabout) schedule and that if you entered the bathroom at that time on any given day, you should probably hold your breath.
Maybe I'm overly paranoid. Who knows? I wouldn't even know where to begin to get over this.
Maybe all I need to do is move up the ladder enough so I can have my own office with my own bathroom. My boss does and it has a shower in it!
Don't even get me started on taking a shower at work. That's a whole other level of paranoia.
I'm going to try and follow C's advice and just write, even if I don't feel like I have anything interesting to say.
Work never stops and sometimes, I wake up and dread the idea that there's another fifty or so years ahead of me of sitting at a desk for nine hours, stressed out of my mind, only to go home, have some dinner and a few hours of reprieve before I have to get up and do it all over again. I'm still averaging about fifty-five hours a week and am only thankful that I can do about ten hours of those from home, preferably in my pajamas in bed.
Regardless, I still feel like I'm so far behind I'm never going to catch up. I've taken on so much responsibility in the past few months - not because I want it but merely because it NEEDS to be done and at this point, there's no one else willing to do it. I used to swear by the idea that when I left work, everything stayed there. Now, I leave and spend the entire commute home wondering if there is anything I can accomplish when I get home. Like that twenty minute drive is only a break while I switch venues.
The guilt, it kills me. I feel guilty because I can't get everything accomplished at work. I feel even guiltier because I neglect Steve and the dog and other self-deemed "housewifely" duties that my brain just turns to mush thinking about after a long day.
And let's not talk about the traffic I've encountered this week. That's enough to make my head want to explode. My thirty minute commute has taken exactly an hour the past two days or so. Most of it is related to accidents or rush hour but seriously, I haven't experienced bumper to bumper traffic like this since I left Philly. And it's frustrating because no matter which back way I try to take, it's just as congested.
Aside from the fact that the most Northern thing about me is how I drive. I cannot stand the lacksidasical approach people take to driving down here. The speed limit on the one lane main road to my neighborhood is 40 but people insist on doing 25 because they're on their cell phone or just because they feel like seeing the sights.
Oh, and the merging. They should teach a lesson on merging when you get your SC driver's license. You do not slam on your brakes to let someone in - that's why they have a merge lane. And to those of you merging - if you see me traveling at a steady speed in the lane you are trying to merge in, do not speed up only to cut me off within an inch of my life then slow down. If you are so worried about getting over on time, slow down a little and get behind me, the person doing the speed limit. You cutting me off isn't going to get you anywhere faster, especially when you immediately slow down, and you'll be lucky if it doesn't kill us.
Then there's the disabled vehicles. Most of the time, they are the ones blocking lanes in some of the busiest traffic. I'm pretty much going to place the blame for those on the lack of state inspection in SC. I really should start logging some of the pieces of shit people get away with driving around here. I saw someone once puttering around in a vehicles WITHOUT A HOOD. Like, driving with nothing to protect the engine.
I know SC used to have an inspection. By the time I got here, it was obsolete but I heard they got rid of it because it didn't really matter. People were getting fake stickers and not caring if they drove cars that weren't deemed safe to drive. And I really wonder if things got so bad that they couldn't enforce it. Other states still require an inspection and they enforce it hard. I know I've gotten pulled over in PA because my stickers were out of date. And even though Steve was certified to inspect my car, it didn't give me any leeway. If my check engine light was on, he fixed it before he ever put stickers on because we knew the consequences.
And that just leads me believe that it's beter to have regulations in place than not have any at all. Because I know in PA, there were people skirting the law, but I also know it was harder to get away with it. And I can only think, everytime I hear a report about a disabled vehicle blocking traffic, that if they started enforcing inspections again, perhaps we would have less of these pieces of shit vehicles breaking down and causing all the traffic problems that they do.
But I'm just a girl trying to get to work so what does my opinion count anyway?
And would you look at that ... C was right. If you force yourself to blog, sometimes you can come up with something to say, even if it's just me whining and moaning about traffic.
So February was a rough month. Not so much "bad" and just "busy"! I don't work well with busy because then my routine gets thrown completely off and I feel so out of sync for weeks and weeks afterwards. What can I say, I'm a creature of habit.
I had a day off today. Because it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day. And to be completely honest, I think many people tend to forget why we have this day. To some, it has become just another day off. To others, they don't even realize it as they have to head off to work and go about their lives as usual.
My week so far ...
Sunday: return home from a weekend in NC with my dad and his side of the family. Barely roll in the door and unpack before falling into bed.
Monday: back to work, numerous phone calls need to be made, Christmas Cards completed, run to CVS for stamps and script, run to Petsmart for Sammy supplies and Christmas presents, unpacking and cleaning of the house, working from home, sealing and stamping Christmas and Thank You cards
Tuesday: work, out to dinner, baking cookies - both took way longer than they should have
Wednesday: work, shopping for Christmas lunch, wrapping Steve's presents, final cleaning of the apartment - including oven, refrigerator and shampooing the carpets, working from home, laundry. Note to self: make sure oven in house is self-cleaning - if not, buy one.
Thursday: work, return items to Old Navy and PetSmart, clean out car, maintenance to car (alignment, etc.), pack for trip, finish laundry, remove subwoofer box from car (more room for our shit), move rest of house stuff from garage so Steve's truck can in there while we're gone, give Sammy a bath
Friday: work - most of the day, 10 1/2 hour trip to PA
I'm crazy right? I cannot wait until the holidays are over so I can start making some sense of this house. Our clothes are still in boxes and we can't find anything but I don't have time to search for it when I'm trying to prepare for this trip.
Exhausted is an understatment!