Mystery Solved: The Crusade of The Midnight Potty Perpatrator

Let's start this chat with a little Marcy Logic, shall we?

I work in a 46 (forty-six) story building with at least one men's and one women's bathroom on each floor (I say "at least" because The Man has his own en suite Princess Potty ... and if our own Man has his own can, I would imagine there are a few other boss mans in our building that won't take a leak among the public). In each ladies' restroom, there are 3 stalls. Now because I don't use the men's room, I'm going to go out on a limb and say for all intents and purposes, the men's bathroom has 3 stalls too ... plus probably a few gross urinals, but we'll leave those out of the equation. So we have at least 276 working toilets in the building. Our office up in the sky has anywhere from 30-50 people on any given day. I think only once during actual business hours have I ever had to wait for a stall to open up ... and we have quite a few females in the office. I understand that other floors are probably set up to fit more employees, so there may potentially be time to play the waiting game and maybe give your best potty dance a go.

Furthermore, when we first moved into our office back in August, our floor had been vacant for quite some time. So naturally, one could expect for the other building tenants that sandwich our floors to take a quick trip up/down the stair well and use the bathroom on our floor. But wouldn't it also be reasonable to think that once the floor becomes occupied, they would stop infiltrating our territory? I mean, I know the hydrant has already been marked, but it's ours now. Beat it! I remember some random lady that didn't work with us walking in as I was washing my hands saying, "Oh! Someone is actually on this floor now?" Yes ma'am. Now fly, fly, little birdie. Spread the word! Almost one year later, and people are still using our bathroom. I mean, it's probably not technically ours since it is out in the hall, outside of our doors, but we have the whole floor. And we pay rent. It's just ours, okay? Hmph.

One other restroom nugget (ew, that didn't sound quite right) for you to ponder is that our bathrooms have motion sensors. So after X amount of motionless time in the bathroom, the lights go out. A week or so ago, I got up to go to the bathroom. I opened the door, and the lights were off. I continue walking in quite content because I knew that meant no one had been in there for a while (i.e. no weird smells) and no one would be in there. I go into a stall, and just as I'm contemplating my latest potty pondering, I heard another toilet flush and the toilet paper rolling. Ok, wait ... *head tilt* ... I thought I was alone. The lights were DEFINITELY out. And I DEFINITELY did not hear anyone else come in behind me. Was this person peeing in the dark? Oh. OOoooh. Oh, Lord. I'm not sure at which point the lights go out, but how long had this person been in there? Oh, no. I had to get out quick before she assaulted my olfactory senses (not that ladies do that). I washed my hands and got the hell out of there. I was also afraid that she would come out while I was at the sink (even though I was curious who it was) and there'd be that whole extremely awkward moment like "I totally just caught you waging war under the cover of darkness."

Just this week I had another encounter with the Midnight Potty Perpatrator (I like nicknames, ok? They're fun and they come in handy). I walked in and the lights were definitely off. I go in to do my business, and heard another toilet flush. Only this time, she beat me to the sink. IT WAS SOMEBODY FROM A DIFFERENT FLOOR!!!! Can we just talk about this for a second? Am I the only one who finds it odd / a little rude that she felt the need to launchWorld Wars III & IV on our floor? I mean, I guess she didn't want the humiliation of her own co-workers catching her in the act ... in the dark ...  but really? Seriously? If our floor was still vacant, bomb away. But, please, PLEASE I BEG YOU, use your own floor's bathroom. Or become The Woman of your company and get your own Princess Potty. Thanks and Gig'em.

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PARTY DANCE!!!!

The Man continues to surprise me!

I had to answer the phone just as he was walking in. We made eye contact, he saw that I was on the phone, we smiled, he waved, and quietly said hello as to not interrupt!

By George, I think I've made it on The Man's list of approved people to acknowledge and speak to.


The Man has been quite chipper lately ... I'm starting to get nervous.


P.T. to Elle,
I hope you have a safe flight to D.C. and have a great time visiting The G Dub! "Whoop!/By George!" for grad school! Start taking notes of all the other future museumians. Also, Hector says hello and wants pictures of the hippos.

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P.T. to 'Thanks and Gig'em!'

P.T.
Even The Man commented on what a great game they Lady Ags played last night. Yes that's right, more words.


Randomly yours,
Marcy "Starting-to-have-brief-conversations-with-The-Man" Magoo

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April Fool's *semicolon* Office Prankery Part 2

So after the success of the first April Fool's prank of the morning, our office manager and I wanted to see if we could pull off another.

The Target

Jessica (aka Princess)

Sidenote- The Man suggested she needed a bigger computer monitor, so she gets a 42" TV for easy spreadsheet viewing. Contrary to others, her nickname is used with endearment.

The Conspirators

Charlaa

Me

Charlaa came up with the idea of calling Princess and telling her that I received a call form Building Management saying they think her car was broken into. I wasn't sure if she was aware of the first prank of the day so I suggested to Charlaa that she send out an "email" from Building Management. She has everyone's car information, so use it/alter some of it to make the email more legit. I also suggested she put a fake phone number in there to call (like Papa John's or something) so that when she calls to ask about the fate of her car, she'd then realize it was a prank. Miss Charlaa took it a step further and said it would be funnier if Princess went all the way down to the first floor and out to the garage to see her car just as she left it. (Sorry, Princess)

The Email

Not 45 seconds later did I hear Princess, purse in hand and on a mission to kill, and Charlaa close behind. *Lock it up, Taryn. Lock it up!*

Princess: "Guess who was on that hit list?"
Me: "Ooohhh, noooo!"


Charlaa and I wait for her to board the elevator and make her way down before we started cracking up. A few minutes go by and we're wondering where she's at and if she's figured it out yet. A few more minutes go by and now we're getting nervous. Should we call? Did something go wrong? Just as I head to pick up the phone to dial out, it rings. Our company name comes up on the caller ID along with a Houston area code. I remembered she just got a company Blackberry and figured this HAD to be her. I'm already losing my composure as I pick up the receiver. I answered the phone in my normal greeting but it was broken up by a fit of laughter.

Princess: "I'm going to kill you two."
Me: "April Fools!"
Princess: "It is on."

Moments later we hear the elevator ding and see her marching straight towards us with a devious grin on her face. All fun and games until she told us what happened downstairs. Instead of going straight to her car, she stops at the concierge desk in the lobby. We forgot to fill him in on our antics. She asked him how bad it was and he had no idea of what she was talking about. She pulled out her Blackberry to show him the email. He starts panicking and calls his boss. (Yikes!) He reads the email like a telegram.

Concierge: "Colleagues, comma. Urgent message from Building Management, semicolon ... *blah, blah, guts of email, blah, blah* ... sent from Charlaa-"
Princess: "Yeah, no. She works with us."
Concierge: "Sent today, April 1st."

This is when I imagined Princess snatching the phone from the concierge realizing what the day's date meant. She then proceeded to half laugh and half tear up. We then start to hang our heads in shame. We didn't mean to upset her. The thing about picking your target for pranks is you need to make sure they haven't had a string of rough days. We're sorry, Princess!!!!! She then went on to tell us that she was mostly just upset at how little the front desk knew about the slew of faux car break-ins and it was just bad timing. She did give us props for coming up with a great prank though - and warned us to watch our backs. I welcome your revenge, Princess. Bring it on!

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Here's to You, Man

In my recent post, Sticking It to The Man, I shared with you my daily battle to get The Man to say two simple words - good morning. Rough life, huh?

Well, dear friends and strangers, I'm pleased to announce that The Man has spoken to me (the first work peon he sees) morning, noon (sometimes), and night every day since the sticking! He has even, wait for it ... said "good morning" first for the past two days! My mind is blown. Here's to you, Man.

In sum, it's the small things in life that count.

P.W. I'm adding "peon" to the funny word list.

P.T. Yup, I just Googled the origin of the word peon, just for giggles, and have adequately validated my reasoning for adding it to the funny word list. The usually semi-credible Wikipedia says-

And by "employment conditions", they really meant bladder conditions.

Happy Monday!

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Sticking it to the Man

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am not a morning person. I never have been, nor will I ever be a morning person. No, I did not wake up on the wrong side of my bed, thank you very much. I happen to sleep in the middle of my bed, sometimes diagonally, not favoring one side over the other. I’m just not walkin’ on sunshine the minute my feet touch the ground. I will, however, at LEAST say “good morning” ….most times. I just need a minute (or 30). But by the time I get to work, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will not be enjoying the sweet, serene view of the insides of my eyelids, but rather a panoramic view of the City of Houston for the next 9 hours. I greet everyone who walks in with a smile, a “good morning”, and to a lucky bunch- a little small talk. All except for one person, one Very Important Person, return the favor. He saunters in at a quarter ‘til 9, briefcase in hand. I extend a greeting.

“Good morning!”

*…crickets...sideways stare…continues around the corner…*

Ummmmm...do I have something in my teeth? Was I speaking in tongues? Hello, can you hear me? Hell’s bells, am I a mute?! Excuse me,  sir , I said good morning! Don’t you have anything to say? I saw you make eye contact! That’s just as rude as when someone offers to let you in front of them in traffic and you don’t give them a courtesy wave! BLASPHEMY! (Side note to Mom & Dad- sorry for being such a morning crank growing up…but I feel as though I’ve improved a little, no?)

What’s that innocuous saying? Oh, yes- “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” I’m no quitter! I continue my barrage of greetings every morning just to see if I get even the slightest grin or whisper in return, but now I’ve got so many crickets I could open a snake feed store. Hmph!

I understand I’m not the only non-morning person in the world, so you may need an additional minute (or 90) once you get to work before you acknowledge anyone. I also understand that a person of your esteemed rank normally doesn’t interact with the peons and minions. I get it. I’m the low man on the totem pole…but I can only go up from here!  If I remember correctly, you were a frat daddy at that other school up the road, so I know for a fact you’ve got some social skills. All jokes aside, you’re a grown man and a leader; will a little courtesy kill you? Think your attempts at ignoring me will condition me into ceasing my innate Southern hospitality? FALSE! If you knew me, which you don’t,  sir , you’d also know that I like to have a little fun and mess with people. Challenge accepted! I’ll see your crickets, and raise you a “Have a good evening!”

A few weeks go by, crickets multiply further. Then one day, I noticed a pattern of sorts- a pattern of very acute and subtle cues. Eureka! Houston, we have communication. Albeit in the form of a non-verbal gesture, it’s still by modern definition, communication. I’ll take it. You think you’re pretty sly,  sir , don’t you? Sthneaky little sthnaaaake! Now I’ve got you.

Allow me to demonstrate what I like to call the “If, Then” cues of the man and his resulting mood.

*Moods subject to change rapidly, and varies between people.

After close examination, it’s nothing personal. It’s just the luck of the draw, I guess. But GOOD MORNING, DAMN IT!


P.S.
You're singing "Carry On My Wayward Son", aren't you? Sorry. If it's any consolation, it's stuck in my head too.

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