The office bathroom, a room where I once almost died, has
been on my mind lately.
Which means, of course, that I have been forced to do
something.
In a move that expresses both my desire to remain semi-oblivious
to the strainings of the gal in the next
stall and the need to add more music to my life, I have brought a clock radio
into the situation.
There it sits, on the counter, next to the double sinks
just under the mirror, a vision of late-80s splendor.
It blinks the time continuously – roughly seven hours and
23 minutes off – because I cannot be bothered to set it correctly.
It’s not about the time, people.
It’s about the distraction it provides.
And even that is
not what it is about.
What it is about is the burgeoning radio war.
Tamra is perplexed.
“Every time I go into the bathroom, it’s on a different
station. Are you doing that?”
“Nein,” I say.
She shakes her head.
“I’ve been in there three times today; and each time I go in, it’s a new
station.” She pauses. “The last time I was in there, Billy Idol’s
White Wedding was playing.”
She pauses again, bemused. “White Wedding,” she repeats.
“I can beat that,” I say.
We turn, in our little double-wide cubicle, knees toward
each other.
“Barry White,” I say.
“Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe.”
We grin at each other.
“The bathroom,” Tamra says, “is just one aspect of life’s
rich tapestry.”
And so now that the women of the 48th floor have
become accustomed to the buttons and dials of a 30-year-old clock radio, the
station changes, perhaps hourly, from Dance to Pop to Orchestral to Soul.
And late yesterday afternoon, someone actually turned it
off entirely.
“What’s it mean?” I ask Tamra.
Tamra, a practical woman with a wardrobe I wish I could
squeeze into, regards me. “I have no
idea.”
We blink at each other.
“No one knows,” I say, “who brought it in. And I’ve overheard people talking, that the
music sure beats the awful silence created as four women in four different
stalls all wish that the others would leave so they could do what they came in
to do.”
Tamra nods. There
is wisdom in this.
“And yet the stations change, possibly hourly.”
And shaking our heads, we turn back to our work.
Are women really
that fickle?
29 comments:
We turn, in our little double-wide cubicle, knees toward each other. I was startled there, until I realised you were back in the office when you had that conversation.
Anyway, I can't listen to the wrong music, especially in the loo where there's no one to distract me (assuming it isn't a double cubicle). I'd absolutely change the station. I'd put the time right too, but that's because of the obsessive nature of my personality.
The old YMCA where I used to work out had an old alarm clock radio in it with the blinking time. It was always set to Rush Limbaugh's radio show every time I went to work out during lunch. And every day I changed the station immediately. *Shudder*
I'm not understanding why all the fuss about when you're "powdering your noses"
Z, oh! Sorry if I was unclear there.
Tamra and I never use the double-wide potty. :-)
Mandy, as would I. :-)
Silliyak, Apparently it needs the proper music to do it!
NOTHING'S going down in the bathroom which is why I need that plunger.
It's so nasty, though.
Incidentally, I hope someone washes their hands because that would be one funky radio.
It'd be like a plunger.
Nasty.
Al, ah, holy hannah, Al, ya had to bring up the hand-washing. /shudder/ I hate to think of how many of my coworkers do NOT wash their hands...
I was thinking the same thing as Al. How many things to you want to touch in the bathroom, anyway? I won't even touch the door handle without proper paper towel placement.
And if I really wanted to make a statement about the radio, I'd "accidentally" drop it in the sink.
Hari OM
...isn't this what the little earplugules with walkabout music were invented for?
Me? I avoid communal toileting like the plague. Mother swore I had camel in my ancestry. &*{
Nessa, when faced with the bus, the skyways, and the general amount of contact in a city, the bathroom pales. Well, for me, anyway. And I am quite the little hand-washer. :-)
Hari OM, Yam. I work four nines and a four. At some point -- at least Mon-Thurs -- I will be in that bathroom. :-)
Wait, now, what? We ALL know who brought the radio in! Those of us paying attention at the beginning, that is.
I'm surprised health & safety didn't remove the radio from fear of losing workers by electrocution. Accidental, of course.
Sometimes it's just better not to know.
Electricity and water is just the thing for a disgruntled employee. Or even a gruntled employee, for that matter.
I used to own a hand-me-down radio I got from my grandfather. The tuning knob would turn, but the station never changed. At one house it only received a gospel station. When we moved cities it then only received a station called "B100", and that's when I learned that I hated, with all my heart, crazy morning FM disk jockeys.
We kept the coffee maker in the bathroom, to the dismay of the men. As they had more power but we had the coffee, we got a kitchen.
Oh hell, you've got the wheels in my brain spinning (not always a good thing) about what would happen should a radio just happen to appear in our bathroom at work...
No radio in the Gents, maybe we just don't give a shit? :¬)
xxx
The things women do (and talk about) when there are no men to keep them on the straight and narrow... :)
What a good idea every work bathroom needs a radio, wish we had one where I worked.
Merle......
Yes. Yes we are.
Distraction in a public restroom is a necessity!
Pearl, you make every room in a building as interesting as public transportation!
music to poop by.
You know it was the GUY who lost his key to the executive bathroom who turned the radio off...on another note are you saying that females grunt when actually---you know?
I found this to be another funny post only because like Z I had a moment where I thought you were in a double toilet maybe that is because I have terrible dreams about going to use a public toilet only to find there are now doors
I would welcome the distraction of music. As for the different stations, variety is the spice of life, I suppose. :)
I kind of like the idea of a constantly changing radio station anywhere--but especially in the ladies' can!
"Are women really that fickle?"
Can I have notice of that question, please?
Pearl, just be glad that nobody has come up with the truly nefarious idea of stealthily setting the alarm function to go off whilst some unsuspecting patron is trying to complete the task. At least, that's what I'd probably do.
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