The workaholic

We all work pretty hard here at 720 California. And space is at a premium. (When you have 500 people doing the work of 700 in a building meant for 300, that’s just the way it is.)

But some rules of polite society must be maintained.

Recently, a co-worker approached me and said, “I have a photo and a story.”

Honestly, nine times out of ten when somebody says, “I have a photo for the potty blog,” it’s usually so unspeakable, that I can barely process what I’m seeing. (The evidence traditionally breaks down into three categories: horrific splatter patterns, hard-to-fathom anacondas or odd shapes.)

But the co-worker’s story wasn’t about some unusual fecal topiary, it was about a head-scratching experience that he’d had in fourth floor men’s room.

The co-worker (hereafter “our hero”) was conducting his business in the stall of last resort. He noticed a strange glow emanating from the stall next to him (the Peter Brady stall.) Then he heard the clackity-clack of fingers on keys and the “WHOOSH!” of an email being sent.

Now I realize we’re all super important people around here. But is anything really so urgent that you need to take your laptop with you into the bathroom stall? That email really couldn’t have waited five minutes? (Probably only 2 minutes if it was the day that the Indian food truck stopped by for lunch.)

Our hero sprung into action, pulled out is iPhone and snapped the above picture--evidence of our workaholic.

We know your shoes, friend. We are coming for you to do an intervention. You and those that conduct business around you (and yes, despite what the “turd burglar” contingent says, it is OK to go next to a co-worker) need some peace and quiet while you’re conducting your transaction. It’s better for everyone. Trust me.

So much promise. So much hope.

It's a new week. Monday, 8:45 a.m.

I walk into the penthouse stall and what do I see? Two fresh rolls of toilet paper.

Jackpot!

It's a small sign, but one that gives so much hope. It makes you feel like anything is possible. Like I have all the tools I need to do great work. To make a difference. To drop a Monday morning monster.

Yes, by 10:30, it will probably all go to hell. And with today being the day after Bay to Breakers, there's sure to be some...interesting contributions today. (Not so much because of too much Sunday liquor--that's par for the course for the men of 720 California. It's the exercise of running/walking/stumbling through a 12K that I fear will wreak havoc on the bowels of my co-workers.)

But right now, the world is our oyster. Let's try and make it great, shall we, men?

Second floor men's room, you make me sad.

A year ago, you could ask anybody at 720 California, "What is the best men's room in the building?" and everybody would give the same response:

Second floor.

But there were signs that all was not well in paradise.

And last July, we went so far as to say, "The king is dead."

Now, as further evidence of how the mighty has fallen, desperate patrons of the second floor have taken to posting signs above the urinals.

Take a look at what is currently affixed atop the big boy urinal on two:

The sign maker employs a photo of an adorable young scallywag to ask visitors to "pay it forward" and beg them to "flush after you piss." There's even a helpful arrow pointing to the button on the auto-flusher.

I'll repeat that last bit--the button on the auto-flusher.

The auto-flush urinals was one of the reasons that you WENT to second floor in the first place! So that you didn't have to use your hands! The "auto" in "auto-flush" is SUPPOSED to mean "automatic" which implies that no manual effort is required.

It's sad to see a former champion beg.

Have some dignity, second floor. You used to be great.

Back in the saddle. Literally.

I have returned.

Despite my request to potty blog full time, my employer does require me to do actual work from time to time. My travels have kept me away from 720 California for a few weeks, but I'm happy to be back.

Not that anything ever really changes in 4th Floor Men's Room. As if to prove that point, a regular reader recently sent me this bit of art that was taped to the wall of the penthouse stall:



Certainly, this drawing captures a mystery that has plagued many a 4th Floor visitor--where exactly is this guy's exit? And how exactly does Picasso paint on the underside of THE SEAT?

But this found drawing isn't from last week. IT'S FROM TWO YEARS AGO. Clearly, our mystery blaster has a long and distinguished tenure here at 720 California.

Or could there be more than one? Does he teach classes? Is there some sort of secret brotherhood?

Anyway, it's good to know that no matter how long one is away, some things stay the same.

It's good to be home.