Call of Doody

I work in a pretty casual office. When I visit my parents and I throw on a ratty sweater, jeans and sneakers, my mother usually asks me “You wear THAT to work?” Such is the formality I grew up with – as a kid, I would polish my shoes before church (granted it was that polish that was like a bottle of paint with a sponge applicator to hide scuffs), I would worry that my little girl nylons had runs in them and actually owned a nice winter jacket for going places and a waterproof ski jacket for playing in snow. Now, none of that matters, I’ve rebelled and my whole life is one long casual Friday.  Even though my mother wishes I would brush my hair more often and wear slips and hose under my dresses,  and last night when we talked while I was getting ready for bed she was like “What – what is that? Are you BRUSHING your TEETH while we’re on the phone?” (I like to multitask), there is one place I draw the line. Cell phones + public restrooms.  When did it ever become okay to talk on the phone in public while peeing? Because everyone in my office does it. One girl was even on the phone with her doctor just now while she was peeing, telling the doc how bad her bronchitis was and how bad she needed to see him. Um, I don’t know if calling from a germy public restroom is helping your case. Also, how is this okay?? I’m ashamed to call my family members from my desk phone for fear of annoying my cubicle neighbors, I can’t imagine what influence I’d have to be under to want to dial out from the four-stalled public restroom. It’s one thing to have your own pee heard on the other end – it’s quite another to not know what the person in stall two had for lunch and how it’s going to affect your conversation. It’s hilarious to me that people will try and arrange meetings and work stuff from the toilet too – I don’t want to know how you conduct any of your business. At all. ANY. of it.

If you want to use the phone at your own house and go to the bathroom, fine – most of us have at one point or another, that’s the beauty of cordless and cellular phones. But aside from the time at my old job when I found a handful of peanuts resting on the toilet paper dispenser, talking on the phone has to take the cake as grossest workplace application of the crapper because it means you’ve absolutely given up. You may as well not be wearing underwear as you step out of your chauffeured Escalade, that’s how little you care about your privacy. Am I being old and curmudgeonly, as always? Probably, but there’s a difference between what you do at home and what you do at work, at least understand that your boss might be sitting next to you, wanting to fart so bad but you’re blabbing on and on. And your boss, the one with the massive Chipotle-burrito-bol fart being held back,  comes off as the polite one. You may not care if others hear you, but maybe next time, think about whether or not the person hearing you really wants to hear your hellos and goodbyes punctuated by a flush.


    • Reece
    • March 17th, 2008

    I am commenting about this blog whilst on the center stall hopper. My real purpose of this comment is to say that I have been there when your mom asked you if what you had on was what you had worn to work that day. 🙂


    • MD
    • March 18th, 2008

    this is hilarious and ridiculous. i can’t believe people do this! you’re not being old and curmudgeonly. this is just gross.

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