I fear something awful might have happened in cubicle 4 of the ladies’ “facilities” at work.
Generally, on entering the ladies’ to avail myself of the wobbly, splash-sodden toilet seated lavatory in cubicle 3, I always check the doors of the other cubicles to ascertain occupancy levels. You know, just in case there are gases and I feel the need to relieve. Anyway, on one or more occasions last week, I noticed that cubicle 4’s lock indicated that it was engaged. I let my disappointment go unnoticed and continued to my favourite toilet. A couple of times, however, I couldn’t use my favourite toilet because some filthy bitch had left a dirty protest on the actual seat. On the actual fucking seat. How this can even happen is beyond me, other than the culprit hovering over the seat and making a mess without regard for hygiene or even attempting to clean up after themselves. Dirty fuckers. How? How does this even happen?
Back to the point. On each of the occasions when it seemed that cubicle 4 was occupied, I carried on, while listening for signs of life elsewhere in the room. There was none.
Now, usually, I take this as being in one of those uncomfortable situations where another occupant needs to “go”, but is holding back because somebody has walked in and they don’t want to be heard, astwer. This being my assumption, I got on with things, finished up, washed my hands and made an obviously noisy exit as a courtesy to them, letting them know that they could stop crying with pain and carry on.
Anyway (:@)), on my return to work today, female office colleagues were warning of a bad smell from the ladies’ and advising that the disabled facility might be the least offensive option. I don’t fucking think so! I know what people go in there to do and some of them are men! Some of them work in the NHS!!
So, unperturbed, I went about my business in the proper place, but my word! The smell was as if something had crawled into the toilet pan to die, and evacuated every orifice as the life force exited its mortal being. It was horrendous. I noticed that some other user had attempted to mask the smell with a spray of cologne, but as with toilet air fresheners, all this does is produce the nauseating smell of shit and nasty perfume.
I decided to check the cubicles to see if something had been left that needed disposing of. As usual, cubicle 1’s unreliable flush had resulted in some toilet paper that hadn’t fully cleared – got rid of that. Cubicle 2 – fine. Cubicle 3 – (mercifully) fine. Cubicle 4 – locked, but silent. I NEVER venture to cubicle 5 because, well, there be dragons!
Visiting the ladies’ a couple more times today, with the smell as intense as ever, I noticed that cubicle 4 was still locked yet silent.
People seemed happy enough complaining about the stench without doing anything about it, so I reported it to the estates team to deal with. I also checked the BBC News website for reports of missing people, but I might as well have checked a shopping list from last week.
But what if somebody has actually died in there? Won’t I feel bad now after writing this? Not particularly. I’ll stick a red banner on it and call it “BREAKING NEWS”, with live updates from the scene.
What I find remarkable though is that nobody did anything about it. I was off yesterday and apparently it was a bit whiffy then. Why do people just leave it to somebody else to sort out? Because they’re fucktards, that’s why, and that’s one of things that makes me resent spending my time in a place that I have to share with nobheads.
Anyway, if I find that the building has a police cordon around it tomorrow after I’ve struggled through an hour and half of shit traffic to get there, I’ll be pissed off. I should probably have left reporting it until tomorrow, or left somebody else to do it.
The Snoring Dog 