Poop

Today I discovered the joy of pooping at work.  It was the most liberating thing I've ever done.  In the past I was always nervous that I would exit the restroom and one of my customers would be standing there ready to go in...and they would know what I just did.  Today, however, waiting wasn't an option.  I had buffalo chicken pizza last night (not to mention the cold slice this morning at 5:15 for breakfast), and the time was nigh upon us. I instantly felt better.  Relief.  Freedom.  Liberation.  Out of courtesy I gave the room a generous spraying of Lysol and, of course, washed my hands, but who really cares?  It's not like people don't know what's going on in there.  That's the room's sole function.  You can pretty much judge by the amount of time someone spends in a public restroom what they're doing.

I don't know what my hangup has been.  My finance Katherine (anyone know how to add the accent above the "e" in fiance?) poops at work every day.  As a matter of fact, Katherine poops every day at 10am no matter where she is.  When we gave tours of the historic Beechwood Mansion, the first tour of the day began at 10 am.  A normal tour for one guide was about 20 to 25 minutes.  If Katherine gave the 10am tour, it was 10 to 15 and ended with her bounding down the stairs in her corset to the ladies' room.  And woe be unto any lady who who might occupy the stall farthest to the right.  It was the one with the radiator in it.  All the girls fought to use the coveted "pre-warmed" toilet seat.  In a 150 year-old house with little insulation, heat was a hot commodity...pun intended.  I'll confess that after hours I, too, would sneak down the three flights of stairs from the actor's housing to the first floor women's room where there was not only a heated toilet, but a chandelier.  But that was after hours, so it doesn't count as pooping at work.

But I stray from my topic.  I decided that pooping at work was so liberating that I would make it my daily routine.  Why not?  I mean, the restroom is right there.  I get a lunch break, I wash my hands.  What could go wrong?  That's when I made my pros and cons list.

Pros:

1. I feel better.
2. It's better than driving like a madman to get home after work to make sure I get there in time, if you know what I mean.
3. It's a legitimate excuse to sit down on a job that requires me to be on my feet for 6 hours at a time.
4. It's quiet in the bathroom as compared to the otherwise rather loud cafe.  (Again, how do I make that accent over the "e"?)

Cons:

1. One-ply toilet paper.
2. Customers might be less willing to buy coffee from a barista that just pooped.
3. Even when you spray the Lysol, everyone knows what you just did.

After weighing the pros and cons I found that I still couldn't arrive at a logical decision.  Honestly, the biggest deciding factor is the toilet paper.  One-ply toilet paper should be illegal.  You're not saving anything as you end up using twice as much.  This industrial strength t.p. is also quite uncomfortable.  My dad would call it John Wayne toilet paper:  made of True Grit and don't take no shit off nobody.  Toilet paper in general is an odd thing.  My friend Tim once told me he didn't get toilet paper at all.  He commented that if you got poop on your arm you wouldn't just wipe it off with a paper towel and be done with it.  You would use soap and water.  Why should it be different for your butt.  I said, "Yeah, but your arm is out there.  Your butt is your butt."  "Oh, Charles," he replied.  "You're clearly not gay."  Point well taken.

In conclusion, I still don't know if I should poop at work.  Today certainly has given me a different outlook on the subject.  I think I'll just play it by ear from now on.  I mean, why should I be uncomfortable when there's an obvious solution, but then again, I handle people's food and use the same restroom they do.  Ah, the mysteries of life.