Keys to the Loo

When people ask me how my experience was at the National Labor Relations Board. , the word I use is confusing.  From before I started, with the paperwork, to the day I left, I was more confused than a 12 year old girl going through puberty. I usually regard myself as a somewhat intelligent adult and there was not a single day that did not go by that I wasn’t confused.  With most issues, my confusion went to frustration and then my frustration went to anger. Let me provide you with an example numero uno.  The first day I was introduced to no one and I was shown where nothing was except for a windowless hole in a wall room with a desk that was older than my grandfather that they called my office and then I was left alone. Luckily, I had my usual morning coffee and I slurped it down while waiting for the office administrator to take me to training. Next thing I know, I have to piss like a race horse. I get up and start wandering the halls in search of the bathroom.  Finally, I found the woman and her dress and grabbed the door handle to push open the door. It was locked. Lovely, so now I had to go locate the bathroom key keeper. I find the receptionist and she kindly lets me use her key.  I asked about future bathroom use and she told me that “Marvin” (I don’t remember the man’s name, but he was at least 90 years old, spoke slow, moved slow and was always in the hospital) would have to get me a copy of the key. I made a mental note and headed to the bathroom.

Weeks later, I still had not received my bathroom key.  I confronted Marvin and he said he would have one the next day. Amazingly, when I arrived at work the following day, there was a key waiting for me. I almost skipped to the bathroom with my new key because I was finally able to not have to alert the receptionist every time I had to pee or God forbid throw up from being hung over.  Of course, I come to find that the key doesn’t work in the door - excellent job Marvin.  I find him later and tell him my key doesn’t work.  He takes a look and says, “Oh this is the key for the men’s bathroom. You need the women’s key right?” I thought this question was rhetorical, but he stood there waiting for an answer from me. Hooray, I officially look like a man, thanks Marvin. I did eventually get my bathroom key, but halfway through the summer, the key suddenly stopped working; surprise!