'they' were the technical support folk recently transferred into the empty space next to the bathrooms. when i saw them setting up shop, my heart sank.
SHIT!
or NO SHIT! if one wanted to get literal with it.
my days in bowel bliss were numbered.
i could no longer just carelessly go the the bathroom for my daily dump, unaware of the time spent in there, uncaring of whether or not someone walked in on me. i had to take care now. the whole reason for having the 'stealth shitting spot' in the first place was to give folk the time necessary to 'drop the kids off at the pool', unhampered by the paranoia of being found out that can sometimes make a person's rectum clinch in panicked protest. this was supposed to be worry free shitting.i was immediately distressed.
until i found out there were no females in the technical support group. then i was extremely happy because although i could no longer linger in the bathroom like i usually did (cuz with folk in the area, there was the possibility of someone seeing me walk in...and wondering if i'd died in there cuz twenty minutes later i still hadn't come out), i could still take a dump without someone walking in. i had that at least.
but the guys who were part of the 'triple s squad' were fucked. not that we ever acknowledged each other formally, but i knew who was stepping to the spot cuz they'd have newspapers and magazines with 'em as they made their way quickly to the ground floor. i've no doubt they were still funking up the joint, but they had to do it even more secretively than before...utilizing the quick 'drop n' flush' method utilized in times of emergency in the regular john. i felt bad for them.
and then i started hearing quiet grumblings coming from the tech support guys. little snippets of conversation would drift to my ears...
"i don't know who took a shit in the bathroom but the nasty bastard didn't bother to flush the fucking toilet."
"man, i was in there earlier today and it smelled like a room full of rotting corpses. whoever took a dump in there has something dying inside of him."
"why is it our bathroom always smells like someone just took a shit in it? i never do that kind of thing here."
"dude, there ain't that much shitting in the world!"
the tech guys were getting upset because evidently there was some kind of ghost shitter roaming their domain and they were determined to find out who. i contemplated what the necessary protocol would be in this situation. i mean, i could email the guys in my department to let them know somebody was out to catch them in the act of shitting, but really...how does one even word that kind of thing?
"dear fellow 'triple s user',
a little birdie told me the tech guys are pissed off at you for shitting in their bathroom. while normally piss and shit go together, in this instance, they do not. i suggest you watch your ass when you're in the 'triple s'. i'm not sure what the consequences would be if you're caught, but those tech geeks can be some mean mothafuckas so you might find yourself being bitch-slapped with a motherboard or something. don't say you haven't been warned."
nah...that was just a bit too raw. i had to make it a bit more professional.
"dear fellow male co-horts,
just wanted to let you guys know that if you plan on pinching your loaf in the ground floor bathroom, you might want to reconsider baking your bread somewhere else because someone's got their eye on the door and i think they intend to get yeasty on your ass."
no...that was a bit too abstract...
"dear fellow male co-workers,
it would be in your best interest to refrain from engaging in bowel movement activity in the ground floor bathroom as there are people watching to ensure proper use of the facility."
damn. there really was no way to put it. i ended up not saying anything, hoping instead some of them would feel the hostile vibe coming from the tech guys and beat a hasty retreat to our own third floor bathroom.
of course i forgot that guys are clueless.
while the traffic to the bathroom had lessened a little, the guys were still doing their thing, oblivious to the animosity rising to dangerous levels around them. the first clue that something was amiss was when brian, one of the tech guys, was asked to remove a virus from bob's computer. bob was one of the guys from my department and he'd just had surgery on his gall bladder, which for some reason made him shit alot. in other words, he was one of the main offenders.
brian, usually very punctual and efficient at what he does, suddenly had all kinds of pressing matters to attend to before he could get to bob's virus problem. this wouldn't have been much of a big deal if not for the fact that bob was literally twiddling his thumbs for at least a day because his computer was jacked up. meanwhile, brian was doing "more important" tasks like software upgrades and duplicating discs. when bob came complaining to me about the fucked up service he was receiving, i wanted to clue him in to the possible cause, but again, how do you word such an exchange?
"uh, bob...brian's upset cuz you've been taking a ridiculous number of shits in the tech guy's bathroom. i know your recent surgery has created an increase in your shitting activity, but you're gonna have to find someplace else to drop your toxic logs."
*sigh*...no.
"bob...i think brian is probably upset about the inordinant number of bowel movements taking place in the ground floor bathroom. basically, you just gotta stop shitting down there."
no...that wouldn't work either...
"bob...maybe you should ask brian why he's dragging his feet on this."
perfect.
bob isn't the kind of guy who would actually take the advice of the token negro though, so he stood there for a second contemplating what i'd suggested.
"that idea isn't sound. i'll just demand brian tell me what's going on."
isn't that what i just...whatever, you stupid bastid.
i rolled my inner eyes hard and turned to my computer as he walked away to follow his own advice. while i didn't think brian would let bob know the real reason behind his frosty demeanor, i figured the exchange would at least get the guys to talking. then again, how would one ever breach the subject of a problem of a person's profuse pooping with the person in question?
"brian, i want to know why it's taking you so long to get to my work order."
"well, bob...i figure i'd take just as much time getting to your computer as you do taking a shit in our bathroom downstairs."
"what do you mean by that??" bob asks, surprised at brian's candor.
brian looks at him derisively before responding, "i know it's your stinking ass concrapulating all the fucking time in our bathroom and i damn sure don't appreciate it. you should start wearing a diaper for your overactive colon. either that or start eating less fiber. here, i just so happen to have a coupon for a 10-pack bag of depends..."
bob, an older man with serious health problems, is overcome with embarrassment. he suffers a massive heart attack and collapses, dead before he even hits the floor.
while that would be a tempting scenario, i doubt it'd get THAT candid, although a part of me really, really wished it would.
i would find out later brian resorted to the tried and true method of communicating at work: he told a bald-face lie, and a bad one, too. he told bob he'd forgotten about his work order. meanwhile, brian always carries a printout listing who he's supposed to service for that day. when bob told me what brian had said, i was immediately cynical.
"and you believed him?" i asked him incredulously.
"well," bob started, a little surprised at the token negro looking at him as if he were an idiot (he got that right). his face stained crimson as he noted my behavior, "i have no reason not to believe him, do i?"
he was looking at me as though i had lost my mind. first, i came at him with an emotion other than submission, then i had the audacity to question the word of a white person. i could tell he was thinking back to the time when he could have had me killed for that shit.
and that's when i realized pointing out the fact that brian probably had the printout with bob's name on it in his hand when he told bob that lie would accomplish nothing, except maybe getting the token negro lynched.
and the token negro ain't sticking her neck out (so to speak) for this mothafucka who i can feel looking at me sometimes, wondering how the fuck i got my nigger ass hired.
so i said nothing.
and watched as the uncivil war started unfolding around me, just as my ancestors did.
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