Re-In-Stalling.

ladies-room-signsSince I know you’re probably dying to know how my office women’s restroom signs are doing, I thought I’d give you this little update:  it’s not looking good.  Actually, I take that back.  The signs are still going strong in all most of the stalls, as you can see in the pic on the left above.  But in one stall the sign has flopped over and not one bathroom-goer has attempted to fix it!  Guess I’ll be hitting up the ladies room with some scotch tape this week.  Remind me at the end of this post to tell the story about the last time I had to bring office supplies into a bathroom stall with me…

But back to the present day bathroom issues.  You probably don’t recall (if you do you have way too much time on your hands) that I also requested that our facilities department fix the lack of hooks on several stall doors.  It’s a really annoying thing to go into the bathroom really having to pee only to then see that there is no hook on the door for your stuff and then you have to unlock the door, go to the next stall, pray it has hooks, and if that one doesn’t boy you’re in trouble.  You get the point.  Needless to say they have not been replaced.  Very disappointing, facilities.  Verrrry disappointing.  So I’ll be following up on that this week too.

And there you have it.  That’s literally what I’m up to this week.  Is that sad?  Don’t answer that.

And now here’s the part where I reward you for reading this update with an embarrassing personal story about yours truly:  The year was 2006.  I was working as an audit associate for a big scary firm that shall remain unnamed.  I was wearing black “Editor” pants by Express (they were my faves).  I went to the ladies room at some point in the afternoon, only to realize I could see the floor through my pants when I sat down.

“That’s odd,” I thought.  Upon closer examination I realized my pants had ripped at some point during the day from front to back.  No joke.  Entire crotch inseam was wide open.  With several long hours to go at work and no chance at being able to go home to change pants, I needed to fix the situation pronto.  So I did what any resourceful young auditor would do – I wrapped my cable knit v-neck sweater around my waist (standard attire back then was sweater over a button down – standard), went back to the audit room, told everyone what just happened, and grabbed the stapler to take it back to the ladies room among screams of “Do NOT bring that back in here!”.  The tricky part was stapling my pants together without anyone wondering what the heck I was doing in there.  But that was nothing a loud throaty fake cough couldn’t cover up: Aaahheeeeghhhmmm.  Staple. Staple. Staple.  AhhheeGGGGMM. Staple.  In fact my performance was so good, a nice lady called back at me from the sink that I sound terrible and to take care of that cough.  Lord knows what she really thought I was doing in there.

But staple-mending my pants worked pretty well actually.  I almost forgot about the whole situation until I brought them to the dry cleaner the following week who looked at me like I was crazy.  And little did I know back then in my young, work-hard-play-hard audit days that in just 7 short years I’d be bringing office supplies back into the ladies room as a mature, working mom.  Ha.  Real mature.  NOT.

 

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