Tuesday, September 21

Day 10155: auto soap

For two hours this afternoon, I really had to go. Pee. I crossed my legs, I tried to think happy non-liquid thoughts. I hummed, I sang, I went into meetings. Nary a thought of trickling streams, babbling brooks or Niagara Falls crossed my mind. All because of a little sign stuck on the washroom door that said:

Please use washroom on another floor

Normally, I'm not that lazy. I'll take any opportunity to walk up and down a few flights of stairs, pop in and out of the various floors, whatever. But really, to get to the washroom on another floor requires no less than 3 uses of the passcard, walking around all the exec offices and elephant stomping my way down the hallway... because, you know, our building is old, the floors are really creaky and I do have a tendancy to "walk with purpose". Of course, I do have the option of going to the reception floor where any client can see me running out of the elevator and making a straight beeline for the nearest washroom. Great for business don't you think.

So I held it. For two hours. Probably more. But I was in meetings so I was distracted by the arguments of applying new Handbook sections that really aren't warranted.

Finally, when push came to shove and I really, really, really, REALLY had to go... I walked by the washroom one last time before making the trip upstairs. It was open again. Phew. The clanking and the clammering of pipes was over. The washroom was in relative peaceful silence except for the sound of running water from the floors above (we do have an old building, you see). All was happy in the world and I felt much, much better.

But the story, dear reader, is not how I felt... it's what I felt.

I turned to wash my hands, admired the new wave-your-hand-in-front-of-this-infrared-light doo-hickey of a faucet and stuck my hand under the new autosoap dispenser.


It felt like a wad of spit. It felt like a bird crapped on my hand. It felt like I'd been slimed...

I look down at my hand and see a glob of soap no bigger than a lima bean.

Lather, rinse, repeat, dry...

Maybe if they had auto-paper towel dispensers, then I'd be suitable impressed.

Then again, probably not.

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