Must-Read: Surviving the Office Bathroom
My short(ish) stint in the working man’s 9-to-5 world could be summed up in two words: Office bathroom. There is where my refuge from work would be. I would spend the trip into the city holding my, um, bathroom needs until I got into work and clocked in. Then, when I was spending 30 minutes on the john reading the morning newspaper, it was like I was getting paid to shit! It was both a brief respite from the stresses of work and a way to stick it to the man!
Looking through this glorious list of various office bathroom folks at GQ.com, turns out I was a cross between The Librarian and The Virginia Woolf.
Doesn’t mind padding down the hallway to the bathroom, past the desks of young women, carrying the latest translation of Dead Souls (with a tasseled bookmark lodged on page 309), then reappearing twenty-seven minutes later, satisfied both bodily and intellectually.
Distant cousin: The Green Monster
Hails from New England; mistakes Peter Gammons for literature. Leaves behind a pile of rumpled Web-site printouts from Sons of Sam Horn.
Where to find him: The handicapped stall.
The Virginia Woolf
In obsessive search for a stall of his own, often leaves the desk he is chained to, boards the elevator, and heads down to the cafeteria floor, where there are no other humans to hold him back or invade his space, a place where he can find some lonely porcelain to warm with his haunches and, for five minutes at least, be his own best self.
What his shrink would tell you about him: Severe social-anxiety disorder; difficulty maintaining the boundary between life and dream states; loves long walks.
How to deal with him: Use e-mail; no loud noises.
How to ruin his day: Walk into his office and say loudly, “Ooof. You beef in here?”
The whole thing is clearly a read. Where do you fit in on their scale?
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About Rick Mosely Rick is the editor for TSB magazine.