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In a previous column, That’s Probably a Health Code Violation, I mentioned that in the office where I work, the men’s restroom is inconveniently located inside the kitchen. As you might imagine, this makes life a little uncomfortable for everyone who has to use that toilet, or be in the same general area.
Today, I taped the following list to the wall inside the bathroom to help stamp out some of the problems that I had been running into with my employees.
Let’s hope it works.
The 10 Rules of the Restroom
1. Priority #1 is to not make the kitchen smell like #2.
2. Leaving the light on does not mean there is a fan in here. Let’s save some energy or limit the smell output. Either one is fine by us.
3. If not using the toilet seat, please remove it from harm’s way.
4. You plug it, you plunge it.
5. No really, you plug it, you’d better plunge it.
6. The floor is not the same thing as a trash can.
7. If you can hear the people in the kitchen, they can also hear you.
8. Do not leave the water running in the sink when you exit. If you do, then rest assured that somewhere, a cute dolphin is suffocating.
9. The paper towels are not a substitute for toilet paper and will clog the pipes.
10. Should the toilet overflow, the last course of action you should take is to panic, run out of the restroom, and not tell anyone. Please inform Management immediately. And we do mean immediately. Some of us are not strong swimmers.
Read more hilarious columns about the crazy office where I work by clicking over to the Office Humor section!
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I enjoy a good argument. More than the actual act itself, I like to win the argument. Especially when I know that I’m right. I enjoy worthy opponents who put up a good debate. The topic can be anything, and if I am not well versed in the subject, it’s easy for me to get caught up in the moment and I will make up reasons to argue for or against it on the fly. Some people are quick to point out that I antagonize those around me in hopes of sparking an altercation. I agree with that statement.
If I chose to, I could blame my love of bickering on my upbringing. I sure got enough practice against an older and more seasoned sister. We would go back and forth about anything under the sun. These bouts usually took place in the back seat of my mother’s minivan where she and my father acted as both audience members and judges for the competition. If my mother turned around and said, “Hey! Leave your brother alone!” then I had won the battle. If she exclaimed, “Stop provoking her!” then my sister sat in the winner’s circle. If my father turned around, lips foaming with spittle and yelled, “Don’t make me turn this car around!” then we considered it a draw. In my youth when I failed to win a case, I could always throw myself on the floor and claim that she had violently knocked me down, and my parents would generally believe me. This tactic worked up until she moved away for college. Since the days of lying on the floor sobbing are now behind me, I have to rely on a quick mind and sharp tongue to get the job done. Mostly I blame my high school for this passion of mine. Unlike most normal academies we didn’t have a debate team, which I would have joined and probably thrived in, and therefore didn’t get the quarrel bug out of my system earlier in life like I was able to with such wedgie-inducing extracurricular activities as theater and orchestra.
As a general rule of thumb, if someone likes to argue then those around suggest that he or she eventually become a lawyer. I don’t agree with this reasoning at all. There’s a difference between making a convincing argument and bickering for the sake of winning. I’m of the mindset that if you love to argue, then one might be better suited as a used car salesman. I feel confident that I could argue with and verbally pummel almost anyone into driving that new Ford home off the lot.
Recently my squabbling hit an all-time low. There are occasions at work when I do not agree with a certain policy or procedure and don’t hesitate to make it known. If I’m aware of the correct solution to a problem, I will be vocal towards anyone who tries to say differently. In a recent meeting I disagreed with a co-worker’s plan of action towards handling a new process. Having years of experience in the department, I stuck to my guns on what I had learned and knew to be a better way. Not even wanting to hear his suggestion in full, I was overcome with the familiar adrenaline rush of a man ready to verbally brawl. We went back and forth for a bit, both convinced that we were in the right. I had made my bullet points to support my theories and listed them out several times to alleviate all doubt to those around us. My adversary then explained his master plan to the room, using descriptive detail and counterpoints. While he and I regrouped, everyone sat in silence for a few moments. Round one was officially complete. Suddenly and without warning the rest of the managers announced that they agreed with my ideas and that’s the way we would proceed. I found myself scoffing at the debate’s being over so quickly. Like always, I was right, but I was not satisfied in the least. I had cleared my schedule so that this argument could last for at least another forty-five minutes. I was counting on this to be an epic knock-down-drag-out for the ages… but it wasn’t.
In just under five minutes, the jury had announced the verdict and they tried to continue on with other matters but I wasn’t having it. In that moment I made a strategic decision that would keep the tiff going and I did the unthinkable: I shifted sides and began arguing against my own initial argument, taking my former opponent’s side and making him an ally. As I began to plead a new case, I was met with open mouths and looks of disbelief. Even my associate was caught off guard by my actions and stared in horror as I began to ramble. My immediate manager held up his hand to stop me. “We’re moving on” he said and brought about the next order of business. Full of discontent, I stood up and stormed out of the room in search of another opponent. It was time to bandy words with anyone at the water cooler who had an opinion I didn’t agree with.
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At the office where I work, things can get a bit awkward for the male workers. You see, the men’s restroom is in a rather strange location. Unlike the lady’s room, which is tucked away in a quiet and peaceful corner, far, far away from the hardships of the world, ours is in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. It’s right smack in the middle of the area where all the employees from the entire building go to take their breaks, eat their lunches and have water cooler talk about whichever reality television show is hip and cool on that particular week.
The men of the department learn quickly that one has to master the art of managing their restroom time effectively because if you don’t go early on in the day then you run the risk of that super large mega coffee that you paid eighteen dollars for at Starbucks kicking in right when the all-female financial department sits down for their noontime lunch, and before you know it, you are stuck in a single toilet bathroom doing your business with an audience of thirteen to twenty gals who can clearly hear every stir, noise, and grunt through the paper-thin walls. The only thing worse than having your co-workers hear your most private of moments? Having to then exit the restroom into a room full of people who do everything in their power to avoid making eye contact with you all while doing the walk of shame past them all. You might be wondering if having a restroom so close to a kitchen is a health code violation. I’m pretty sure it is. It also brings a new meaning to the old phrase “Don’t poop where you eat.” It all makes so much sense now.
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I’m a firm believer in the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person’s deeds in the previous incarnation. However, in my opinion, nothing is better, and not to mention funnier than instant karma.
I work at a university that has over five thousand students on campus on a daily basis. Now, take into consideration that each of these students has one car and drives it to class each day. Not only is that five thousand people who do not understand the concept of carpooling, but that’s approximately four thousand students who won’t be able to find a parking spot anywhere. As you may imagine, this creates a bit of a problem.
In the office where I work, we have a small employee parking lot, however, the students think they are quite clever and if they are running late for class and all of the parking spots are full they will sneak into our lot, park, and sprint off to class in hopes of not being seen and subsequently hunted down like wounded animals. Knowing how this creates a giant hassle for employees, we are asked to report violators to security so that their vehicles can be ticketed, towed, or saran-wrapped (if we take matters into our own hands). I understand how it may seem a bit callous to do this to people who are thousands upon thousands of dollars deep in student loans, but hey, no one said college would be easy.
Employees have small university tags, which hang from the rear-view mirror of their cars to indicate that they work for the school. Students are assigned giant neon stickers roughly the size of Kansas that are used to mark their vehicles. It’s quite easy to spot a car or truck that doesn’t belong. It’s a lot like trying to hide an obese person somewhere in an Ethiopian village. One day as I was returning to work from lunch I was unable to find parking in our lot. I circled around several times and saw car after car emblazoned with the neon orange student sticker taking up residence in our precious spaces. Eventually I gave up hope and was forced to find an empty spot on the outer limits of campus. I then started the long walk to my office under a hot Florida sun.
As I got closer to civilization I noticed that classes were over and hordes of students were exiting the nearby classrooms to go home and study. And by “go home and study” I mean, “form a drum circle or play hacky sack.”
I spotted two male students who strolled right from their class into our lot while walking and talking, looking as though they didn’t have a care in the world and completely oblivious to the fact that I had essentially just walked through a desert due to their illegal parking schemes. They were laughing and high-fiving and having a great old time. Not only did they have the audacity to park in our sacred lot, but also had the nerve to stand together and chitchat once they had reached their vehicles. I was definitely in the mood for some revenge.
After wiping the sweat from my eyes I could see that they were parked directly across from one another in the lot, the main driveway running between their cars. If I was quick about it then I could get both of their license plate numbers before they knew what was happening. At that point my plan began to crumble as they spotted the employee tag around my neck from a distance and bolted for their respective driver’s seats. In their haste to get away, they fired up their engines, threw it in reverse and simultaneously backed out of the parking spots, their cars slamming right into one another. Before I had time to react, the two friends were out of their vehicles yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. Security was on scene in a matter of moments and ticketed both drivers. Karma strikes again.
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Sometimes in life the less we say, the bigger impact it has upon those around us. I didn’t really comprehend the previous statement until several years deep into my experience as a manager at work. At my office job I’ve begun to notice how a casual remark can turn the tide of my department’s future. Let me illustrate.
My job obligates me to sit through a lot of meetings. We have meetings in the morning, meetings in the afternoon, and meetings during lunch and meetings right before the end of the day. Often times we have meetings to plan out the meetings we will have in the future and then have post-meetings to recap the events that took place within those meetings. Nine times out of ten these meetings are important and determine future practices and protocols that I need to be familiar with in order to help manage them. However, there are the occasions where a meeting is so extremely dull in nature, that instead of paying attention to the ideas and details being thrown out around me I will drift off and occasionally do long division in my head just to pass the time. After I’ve spent a chunk of time drifting and I have solved the world’s biggest problems and pondered my future two or three times over I will return to my body in time to hope that the meeting doesn’t end right as my leg is falling asleep for the eighth time that hour. Let me tell you, nothing is more embarrassing and awkward than walking out of a meeting while dragging a dead limb behind you.
I normally do very well controlling my zoning. I went to high school and college, thus giving me years of experience in this field. If I am led to believe that my participation will be needed at any point in one of these meetings then I will stay focused and contribute as necessary. The trouble comes during those times when I have resigned myself to the fact that I am just filling a seat and begin the zoning out process. Then it happens: suddenly and without warning I am thrust into the midst of the conversation by someone asking me a question. I am immediately snapped back into my body to realize that A.) I have no idea what the question was, and B.) I now have five sets of eyes staring at me intently, waiting on pins and needles for an important answer. It’s during these situations where my vague answers can save the day.
My vague answers come in three forms: agreement, deep thought, and confident indifference. All three of these formats have saved me at one point or another. Often times when the question is asked the first thing I will do is quickly scan my memory banks and attempt to identify the last person whose voice I heard while I was zoning out. If I am able to do this quickly enough then I can produce a response to let everyone know that, “I agree with Jim.” This causes everyone to sit silently for a moment before the heads start nodding and the discussion continues. When I go with deep thought, I furrow my brow, put my chin onto my first and let out a “Hmm” that lets everyone around me know that I am pondering their question. Eventually they will tire of the silence and announce that maybe it’s smart to rethink the situation. Lastly, there are the times where I snap out of my daydream to find myself armed with no prior knowledge of the conversation that is in progress. In these tough situations I will sit back, make eye contact with each individual in the room and give them a very confident yet indifferent, “Sure!”
It’s not uncommon for my managers to tell me after these meetings how much they respect my ability to make quick decisions under pressure and that if I hadn’t been in that particular meeting then there’s no way they would have reached the conclusion I provided. After these meetings all I’m usually thinking about is how long division is easier with a calculator.
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