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Taking My “Bathroom Break”

January 6, 2011

Bathroom "Break" At Your Own Risk

Something unfortunate has developed in the last few weeks at my job. I, along with the other front desk girls, no longer have a break room. This wouldn’t be an issue, if I could, say, eat or read at my desk during lunch. But when your (my) desk is the main attraction, commandeering the building’s lobby, there is no way I can properly enjoy my mayonnaise (and turkey) sandwich. Plus, to be honest, eating at the desk is just not allowed. And, as the Employee of the Year, I simply cannot tarnish my good reputation, or the desk (with mayonnaise).

So, as any thrifty front desk girl knows, a solution must be found. Thus, I have begun retreating to the 43rd floor restroom to read and eat my morning snack. And so, giving new meaning to the term “bathroom break,” I stretch out on the marble floor, recharge my batteries, and hope that no one comes in to use the restroom for its intended purpose, especially number two (YUCK!).

So, for these past few weeks, this lovely use of the lavatory has suited me quite well…lasting until, well, yesterday, when humiliation got the best of me.

I was headed to the 17th floor to the property management office (aka the big bosses’ office). There the PMO’s kindly gave us access to the use of their closet, for which to hang our uniforms and coats, as, we do not have a break room. I had a skip in my step and giddiness in my heart, as I was headed to the golden closet to retrieve my morning snack, a glorified Uncrustable. Then I was going to head to my pristine privy for my bathroom break.

However, one detail to note, about this luxurious amenity (the closet), it is located in the room with the conference table–where important people have meetings, to say plainly.

So, on this fateful day, I headed into the office, already feeling like an outsider, though excited for my peanut butter and jelly crustless treat. Before I came into full view of the table I saw two people sitting there (in front of the, my, closet).

What the hell, I thought. I am going for it. I am just going to go in there, open my cherry colored lunch box, and snag that sumptuous sandwich.

Upon entering further, almost to the closet,  now in full view of the table, I see, to my mortification, that the table is entirely full of very important people in the middle of a meeting. They all turn to look at me as I freeze mid-step. There is NO way I am going to go to that closet, a lowly front desk girl, crack open the door, get out my dumb lunchbox and childish snack in front with all these (business) men.

So, with my face stinging red, I turn right around and walk out. I quickly buy some overpriced, tasteless peanut butter crackers from the building “convenience” store and retreat to my restroom.

I slump down on the tiles. My lavish latrine bathroom break room no longer feels as such. I am now down in the dumps, in the crapper.

This is how your 20’s are supposed to be, right?

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