So I've decided that the housekeeping lady, or to be more PC... the custodial artist, who deals with our bathroom at work is the most fascinating person to me, at this present time. In a recent survey, 9 times out of 10 times when I've gone to pee out my morning coffee around 11 a.m., she is in the bathroom, in the stall, doing her business. So the advice my dad gave me when I was choosing what to do when I grew up came to mind: "Find a way to get paid for doing what you love." As a hypochondriac, I thought of pursuing the medical arts, since I couldn't figure out how to get paid for talking on the phone... at least in a way that I would admit to. Then came my stint working in TV, because I love TV! Does anyone need a shoe model? Can I get paid for napping? No, but I did find a way to get paid for my skills on the keyboard. Bingo!
By my logic, I am left wondering... is the custodian secretly obsessed with peeing? Does she have over-active bowels? Is this a career choice, or a strategic lifestyle decision? I often think, does it bother her that she has to shit where she sleeps... almost literally? That sort of mental jolt I get from taking a break, sitting down for a tinkle, and reapplying my lipstick would be ruined if I spent all day in the bathroom.
The random survey also revealed that the 1/10 times she is not inside, she is standing just outside eating oatmeal. You know, the instant Quaker oatmeal that comes in a plastic bowl. Just add water. My detective skills say that she suffers from the c-word, but I'm just not satisfied with that diagnosis. Hmmm. I think that would be challenging to spend your 40 hour work week in a place that people get a sense of relief and happiness from visiting.
Like if I was paid to sit outside on a bench and watch cute guys in ties walk by, the occasional one smiling at me, giving me hope that I still have it.
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