Rejected title: Idiot parade
OK, so our restrooms are being renovated here on the second concentric layer of hell floor. We have been asked to use the restrooms downstairs. This is not an instruction that is difficult to comprehend.
However. …
I sit near the men’s room. The workers placed a strip of masking tape across the door, ostensibly to warn people to stay out. The tape is, heightwise, about where my forehead is. Now, knowing I work with the living dead, you probably won’t be surprised to hear how many people went into the restroom anyway, despite this little barricade (the workers don’t speak much English, so I am not surprised that they didn’t put up a “Do Not Enter” sign, although it probably wouldn’t have been effective either). I just had visions of someone walking into the tape and coming out and walking around with the tape flying from his forehead, like a marathon runner crossing a finish line. Or, like Angie put it, like a mayor cutting a celebratory ribbon. That’s one way to identify the crown idiot of the day — we can name him the Mayor of Toilet Town!
The problem got so bad yesterday that, in addition to the strip of masking tape over the door, the workers had to put an additional seven strips across and one strip vertically down the center, just to keep the morons away. Proof positive that we do NOT hire the best and the brightest ’round here.
Shan sits across from the ladies’ room. The Queen Pooper (or Fudge, you know, the fucknugget who wipes her ass on the seat) tried four times in one hour to access the throne room, but every time, it was being worked on (a memo DID go out to this effect). She stormed away in a huff every time. I suppose she just can’t shit anywhere else — maybe Shan can give her one of Alex’s diapers to tide her over till the renovations are done!