Coming to Grips with Pee Part II

During my undergrad (still prior to tumor removal – see Coming to Grips with Pee Part I), I worked nights as an English instructor at a local technical school. I would ride the bus home from Weber State then borrow my dad’s crappy 1988 Ford Taurus to drive a half hour to teach. These were very long days.

One of my classes consisted of men getting their auto tech certifications. “Guys? Can you check out my dad’s car,” I said. “It was making strange jerking motions and it stinks like burnt rubber.”

Turns out, I had driven the entire way with the parking brake on.

On another night, I stopped by my supervisor’s office. I remember I was wearing a not-too-short, black business skirt.  As we discussed my classes, I heard a strange plip-plopping noise – several plip-plops actually. I looked around the room, and then down at the linoleum tiles.

My boss also looked at the little puddle between my feet.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said.

“I can see that,” said my boss.

I walked out of his office, then ran to the bathroom. But there was nothing to do in there, I had already done it. The skirt came out of the ordeal unscathed. I have no idea how that happened.

I said a few positive affirmations to the mirror, breathed through my nose, and walked back to my boss’s office. A janitor stood there with a mop and a bucket. I poked my head in. “Well, good night!” I said.

“Good night,” said my boss.

I swear the janitor winked at me. I swear he did.

I’m sure most of you fantasize about peeing on your boss’s office. I have not only done it, I did it in front of his face.  Having lived the dream, I can say that it wasn't really that cool.  So, if you’re considering it, let me give you some gentle advice – maybe try something more subtle, like an email.