Thursday, August 20, 2009

Dear Female Building Janitor,

I find it strange that you seem to show up to clean the bathroom every time I'm in there. Sure, that's going to happen once in a while, but today marked the third time. It's embarrassing.

I go in there thinking it will be just like any other trip to the men's room. I sit down, settle in; there's someone in the other stall. He leaves. And that's when it happens: you knock on the door. "Janitor!" you shout. I never know what to say. Is there a socially-correct response? Should I say, "Just a minute?" What if I'm not done? I've thought of saying, "It's gonna be a while," but I know you've got a lot to clean, and I don't want to be rude. It's just so tricky.

So ends my only time of solace and reflection for the whole day. The one thing I count on when I go to my job is a quiet repose in the washroom, a respite from the hectic hubbub of cubicle life. It's a chance to catch up on the important reportage in the EW issue from three months ago. It's a chance to survey and consider the latest trends in men's footwear. It's a chance to examine some of the most non-uniform grout lines ever seen. Mostly, it's a time of escape.

You see, when I'm in there I can fully immerse myself in the alternate reality comprising all my visions and dreams of the future. Who am I? Am I still just a widely-read blogger, a bored employee, a local rock star? No! I'm a real rock star. But right in the middle of our best song, even though less than half of the audience is using a mobile phone, the great time for all is abruptly cut short by a jarringly-loud rap on the door. You're like the police showing up at a college party. Or the teacher finally returning from the copy room.

One thing I'll give you credit for - you do always smile when I walk out. I, of course, try not to make eye contact, but I can never avoid your face entirely. So I know you always smile. Maybe it's more of a smirk. It's possible you know that I, in a repeated exercise in futility, sprayed the air freshener. Or maybe you're amused at the irony of the enormous contrast between the restroom's beautiful aesthetics and less-appealing atmosphere. It's likely you're smiling because there's really nothing more to do in such a thoroughly-awkward situation.

The important thing here is that the poor air quality in the bathroom is mostly the fault of the other guy. I'm sure you saw him. The climate actually improved while I was in there. Think about that! The other important thing is that I don't use the restroom at the same time every day. So how can you always be there? See how messed up that is? The last important thing is that I'm not the one who uses all the TP. I just wanted you to know that. From now on, just put the cleaning schedule on the door. I'll do whatever it takes to avoid your appointed cleaning time. It will be better for both of us.

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