The tale of the office bogs

Now most of us at some point in time have worked in an office. And said office did have a toilet. Now. The boss has out sourced the cleaning, and they installed

those toilet paper dispenser. The one with the hole in the bottle so that you can get the cardboard out of, and another roll drops down. Anyway. Those things are really annoying. First you have to build up the courage to use the office toilet, cos you don’t know what noises are going to come out of you, or if your grunts of pushing are going to be heard by the other staff. But then you come to wipe and find you’ve just finished the toilet paper. Now you have to try and get the toilet roll out of that metal box of toilet papery doom. After fighting with it and having torn it to pieces to get it out you, push that little button type thing in and another one drops down. All very well. But now your in the toilet for a good 7-8 minutes and people might be thinking that your toilet children must really big. You know there picturing you with a bead of sweat running down your forehead as you push and push and make those “mmmaaarrhhhh” sounds.

Anyway. Now you have the new roll in place, and you have to try and find the beginning of the roll. So in go the the fingers and you slowly edge the roll around looking for the tab. You will find it on its second time around and you try to pull it off. But either it sticks or is torn to pieces. So now you loose your temper and just start tearing wildly at the new roll. fibers and pieces of paper fly through the air, covering your shoes and underwear. But you’ve got the stream of the roll and your about to get out of there. Cos you’ve been in there to long. Far to long. What the hell have you eaten they wonder. They never say it, but you know they are thinking it. So now you start pulling the stream of paper. It looks like things are going well, at the rate your going you should be out of there in another 5 to 10 minutes max. Pulling pulling, snap!, oh its broken. You’ve managed to pull three sheets of paper out before the whole thing breaks. Pull…break! now one sheet. damn it! Can nothing work for you? The sudden realisation that you going to be here for a while when you have the first wipe and see that the night before drinking wine and codeine phosphate while playing laser hockey on the Wii till 3 in the morning, has come back to haunt you. Your here for a while, better get comfortable, even send an SMS or two. At home you would normally know how to deal with this, pull a large wad of paper and get stuck into that nasty mess, all while reading a year old N.A.G. that lies on bathroom floor next to the toilet.

So you slowly pull as much paper as you can and snap. Its never the same amount of sheets, and its never when you want it to snap either. One, five, two, three, its slow and the single ply factor means you have double up, cos you don’t want that stuff on your hand. Pulling pulling, the snapping, the internal screaming that goes on. You’ve got some on your hand. Damn shit on your hand and your at the office. This my friends is not good, you wipe you hand wildly in a panic. But the smell and colour wont disappear totally. You know when you get out of there your going to the sink for a good hand scrub. At last your done, its taken half an hour. But your done and you’ve washed you hands. Your out. Then someone else goes in a little while later. When they come out, the first person they look at is always you. They know, they saw, smelt and felt the evil the passed from you bowel. But damn i hate those toilet paper things. I should be working, but its far more fun to fuck around. I really and i no mood to do any work today.