The Bathroom Rant

(Ladies...this is for you.)

When you go into a bathroom, there are certain items that you can't help but assume will always be present. Toilet paper, door on the stall...tampons in the machine. That last one - that may be more of a hope than something that can be safely assumed.

This morning, I was over in E checking out the fume hoods and getting high off the gnarly aromatic compound smell permeating throughout a block of labs when I felt that unmistakeable...feeling that I should excuse myself for (lack of better words) the dam had broken and it was time to go sandbag.

Rushing through the deceptively confusing square that is the building, I found my way back to the restrooms and made a beeline for the machine. At first, I attributed my inability to get the quarters into the machine to my own issues, but then realized that when the machine is out, it's nice enough to plug the money hole. But if the money hole is plugged, the machine is...out. Fortunately, there was another lady in there (and she had a purse with her! And most girls keep in their purses...) and she was able to help me out. Rejoice! All was right with the world - until I left the restroom and then became irritated that there were no feminine supplies to be found in the restrooms. And lately, when I'm irritated with the facility, I call in a work order to have it fixed. (It's easier and more productive than merely complaining.) So I pull out my cell phone and call...

Work Order Desk: May we help you? (Grrr - a dude answered!)
Me: Please dispatch housekeeping to RR1 in E.
Desk: What is the issue?
Me: The lady supply machine needs to be refilled.
Desk: RR1?
Me: RR1.
Desk: All right, we'll send someone over. (Yay!) What is your name? (D'oh!) What is your telephone number? (I'd like to see the customer satisfaction survey on this one.)

So I provided the information and resumed to my morning activity of huffing out of the paint lab fume hood. I didn't think much more of this until later this afternoon when I'm standing in line in the cafeteria and my phone rings.

The conversation went something like this:

Housekeeping: This is housekeeping lady. I understand there's an issue with RR1 in E.
Me: Yes.
Housekeeping: The machine is out, you say?
Me: Yes.
Housekeeping: Which machine?
Me: ...(quietly, keep in mind, I'm in the lunch line with other people standing around) sanitary supplies.
Housekeeping: What is it out of? (You've got to be kidding me!)
Me: Everything.
Housekeeping: So it's the tampon machine?
Me: That is correct.
Housekeeping: No it's not.
Me: Yes it is. I checked earlier.
Housekeeping: Are you sure? I filled one earlier.
Me: Did you fill that one? It's in RR1.
Housekeeping: I'll check.
Me: Thank you. Have a good day. (Hangs up)

*sigh*

A couple of hours later, after I had pretty much forgotten about all of this, I was in the bathroom in my building. I like the one by the vending machines - it's quiet in there and not a high traffic area. After washing my hands, I turned to use the lotion dispenser, which is at shoulder height for me (I'm 5'7") and I depressed the lever so it'd dispense and *squish* a high powered stream of milky liquid shot out, banked off the palm of my hand, and nailed me across the chest. The lotion dispenser money shot me!

So I've spent the remainder of my day walking around with milky white spots all over my dark red shirt.

(And I can't think of a better way to end this entry, so I'll leave you with the mental image of me walking around covered in dried, white goo and my attempts at hiding it as I maneuver through the remainder of my day.)