In the Toilet

“Joe, I think there’s some confusion over by the restrooms.”
“Thank you, mister bar patron, I’ll look into it right away.”
During the past week my stress level has risen a bit and the reason for the spike appears to have “toilet” written all over it. Yes, what I’m saying is that it has been a bad week for the bathrooms, johns and restrooms in my life.
You may ask …
“Joe, what do you mean when you say these lavatories are part of your life?”
“Well, inquisitive reader …”, I’d say, “ … they are, at least these, in particular.”
The ones I speak of, I enter, for one reason or another, at least once a day, more often than not, a few times a day.
“So, Joe, when you say bathrooms, how many are you talking about?”
“Good question, unknown person who is asking, I would be talking about seven different bathrooms.”
Yes, that’s right. I have seven different bathrooms in my life right now that I personally oversee. I have a responsibility to make sure they are in tip-top working condition on a daily basis. Seven! Three at home and four at work.
Oh, and that’s not all. Two of these seven bathrooms account for six commodes and two urinals. You may have guessed, these two bathrooms are none other than the men’s and lady’s restrooms for our customers at the restaurant where I work. Many a person’s private parts have closely inspected these premises of which I speak. It’s not an easy job making sure that all feel comfortable when they visit. Maintenance for the expected optimum experience in these essential rooms is challenging indeed.
“Excuse me, Joe. Are you kidding? It’s the head you’re talking about, right? What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big deal? I’ll tell you, man who is probably homeless, the big deal is a matter of dignity. That’s right. Dignity.”
Let’s face it, no matter what type of living quarters you occupy it is almost certain you have or at least share a bathroom. And just like any other room in the house, you care for it. You clean it. You decorate and furnish it. You occupy it for deeply personal reasons. You share it with other family members and visitors. It’s an important room. It needs to function properly. It needs to be fully operational at all times. Without it, you would feel less than human.
“Alright, Joe, so you are in charge of the toilets. We get it. So what’s the big stressful problem?”
“I’m glad you asked, inquisitive participant in my story, I’ll be quick and brief in my explanation.”
So it all started in the lady’s room where someone had to cover the toilet seat with toilet paper before they sat their ass down to do whatever and then decided they would tidy up by pushing all the paper from the seat into the toilet along with whatever else they already deposited and flushed it all down but it didn’t go down but instead overflowed all over the floor. The next female patron who knew enough not to use the stall with all the dark water spreading out from under it decided to use the stall at the other end of the room because the next stall she looked in on was already filling to the top with backed up water and after using the only toilet with less water than a swimming pool she thoughtfully flushed her whatever which now came back at her like a tsunami and so she fled the scene yanking up her pant legs and within a few minutes water crept like the blob from under the lady’s room door until it soaked the rug in the hall. Did I mention I had to attack the problem with an old plunger with no success? (G-g-g-gag!) Soon the men’s room bowls were filling and joined the party. For the rest of the shift we had to march customers through the kitchen and up to the employee bathroom. Then later in the week we closed down the lady’s room to gut it out and remodel it resulting in the commotion mentioned earlier when we had to make the men’s room a unisex bathroom resulting in long lines and embarrassing moments when parents escorting young daughters into the men’s room had to answer questions like … “How do you pee in that, mommy?” … And would you believe that some women were mortified to have to use a men’s room while other women admitted to never, ever having to step into one before? And then the bathroom upstairs had a problem where the water wouldn’t stop while refilling the tank and I had to reach in the tank to repair a broken chain link. And at home the upstairs shower is seeping into the loose tiles in the shower causing water to drip down from the ceiling in the downstairs bathroom causing two bathroom problems at once. And then the …
“Whoa! Whoa! Joe. Take a breath. Hold up a second. Calm yourself down. Stop already.”
“Oh, thank you, reader who recognizes the signs of oncoming heart attacks, I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Anyway, There’s more work to be done, both at work and at home to make my facilities most welcoming. But, it's my nature to look at the bright side. At least I don’t work in the restaurant shown below.


Now, if you would please excuse me ...
Got to go. Got to go. Got to go go go!