I lost the battle, but the war still rages on.

Remember a few days ago…or maybe it was a few weeks…months?…of no consequence.  It wasn’t today.  So, remember a while ago when I told you about the custodian tinkering when I should have been tinkling?  No?  Read it here, third section down, and I’ll wait.

Remember now?  Ok.  So, he did it again.  I’m beginning to think this guy wants me to pee my pants.  Maybe he leads a dull life and the only thing that brings him any joy is to see professional-looking office workers wet themselves. 

Or maybe he leads a very full life and likes to regale his mounds of friends with tales of women forced to wear their winter coats as pants (legs through the arm holes; use an extra-large elastic band as a belt) because they’ve soiled their original pair. 

Or maybe he’s a cruel, demented, deviant who gets off on seeing the pain in our eyes caused by full bladders and nowhere to empty them. 

Or maybe he’s just doing his job and I have bad timing.  Whatever.

Yesterday I was having massive pains.  Different from the ones Google defines as “cancer”.  Not cancer pains.  These were of the bottom end of the digestive system variety.  Or so I thought at the time.  And these pains were painful, which meant to me, at the time, that “things” were at Code Red Emergency level.

So I ran to the washroom and initiated the procedure.

Guess who I hear?  That’s right. 

Oooooh…it huuuuurts.

*sqeeeeeeeeak* *squeeeeeeeak*

Of course.  The window on the door immediately to the right of the single-stall washroom needed to be squeegeed RIGHT AT THE MOMENT MY INTESTINES WHERE READY TO EXPLODE FROM MY PERSON.  Of course it did.

Article 1 of the United Nations Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment defines torture as:

Any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person (this is definitely intentional) for such purposes as obtaining from him or a third person, information or a confession, punishing him for an act he or a third person has committed (maybe I leave my desk too messy at night?) or is suspected of having committed, or intimidating or coercing him or a third person, or for any reason based on discrimination of any kind (he hates my face?), when such pain or suffering is inflicted by or at the instigation of or with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity. 

 – Convention Against Torture, Article 1.1

*squeeeeeeeak*  *squeeeeeeeak*
Wow.  That’s a really dirty window.  That’s probably the dirtiest window ever.  Like someone probably filled a spray gun with horse manure and let ‘er rip all over that window.  Probably.
Side bar – The custodian saw me go into the washroom.  Wouldn’t the polite thing to do be to step away from the washroom and let a girl have some privacy?  Because if I can hear his squeegee, he sure as heck can hear me peeing.  Or worse.
He continued to torture me for some time.  It got to the point where I stubbornly started a war with him in my head.  We were playing chicken to see who could stall the longest – me sitting on the toilet doing nothing and pretending I wasn’t in there, he cleaning the window which had to be clean by now and pretending he wasn’t out there.  I wasn’t going to lose because I was the one in pain, paaaaiiiiin, and he had other things he gets paid to do.
Ooooooh…it huuuuurts.
*squeeeeeeeak*  *squeeeeeeak*
“I’m not going to lose.  I’m not going to lose.  I’m not going to lose.  I’m going to sit here, watching the floor, willing you to leave the vascinity.  You have other things to do and I do not.  I have nothing else to do but sit on this here toilet and wait out the rest of the day.  Don’t tell my boss where I am.  You’re going to leave and I’m going to stay and You Lose and I Win.  Go.  Away.  Stop cleaning that window because it’s super clean and GOOD JOB!  In Custodian Olympics, you would totally get gold in Window Cleaning because of all the practice and dedication you have to getting windows super clean.  Now go.  Go.  GOOOOOO!!!!
“Ugh.  Fine.  You win because now I’m completely bored and actually nodding off a little bit and I think the pains are gone out of boredom.  So, thanks for that.”
So I gave up and just left.  Again.
This guy is good.  Too good.
I’m totally reporting him to the UN.
Maybe I'll post something later that doesn't involve poop.  Or the prospect of poop.  Or the idea of the prospect of poop.

7 thoughts on “I lost the battle, but the war still rages on.

    • It’s just a room. I was in the room, which just happens to house a toilet, and he was outside of the room. Squeegeeing the window on the door next to the toilet room, which was uber important, apparently.

  1. Maybe next time you feel the urge to tinkle you can first put a call into maintenance for some very important fixing that needs doing somewhere else in the building – would that work?

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