Press 1 to Pee, Press 2 to...

Yes, I'm going there. And only because this has been bugging me for days and I think I need your input. I promise, this will be quick. Unlike the actual moment which seemed to go on forever. This week--I went into the ladies room at my "McDonald's" job. Big public restroom with multiple stalls. I never strategically pick a stall, however I've noticed a pattern with some at this place. Regardless--as I sat down to relieve myself--I heard a woman's voice in the stall next to me--TALKING ON HER CELL PHONE.

Now I"m sorry. But a bathroom is a room with one purpose. Okay maybe two--uh, if you count fixing your hair. And at work--it's really a fast in/out do your business room right? Apparently not here. As I sat there--I realized I recognized the voice on the cell phone. Great--A woman I manage. So I listened. And sat. I listened. And...COULDN'T PEE. I felt like if I did--I'd be heard on her cell phone conversation. NOT that I knew the person on the other end--and not that I cared if she cared (clearly she didn't since her friend was on the pot too) But still--suddenly my bladder got very shy.

So--and here's the part I"m obsessing over--I said "Gretchen? Are you on your cell phone?!!" Silence. From all the stalls. Not even a courtesy flush to hide my strange inquisition. Finally I gave up. Washed up. And left. Quickly, so no one could see who was the culprit to call out the caller. The rest of the day, I felt bad. I avoided Gretchen. Why? I don't know. So help me please. What would you have done? Keep quiet? Ignore it? Whistle? But seriously--IS NOTHING SACRED from the cell? Good lord--what if I had to do #2? (sorry)

I felt compelled--and a bit scared--that maybe I was the outsider who DOESN'T talk on her cell phone in the restroom--so I emailed Gretchen. "I hope I didn't embarrass you in the ladies room...just surprised to hear someone talking in there." God. I made it worse didn't I? She emailed back--"not to worry--someone died and I was counseling a friend." (While she was peeing mind you.) AHHHHHHH. That makes it better. I should have peed. Or farted loudly as they cried about a death.

I think I'm working in a place where everyone feels so comfortable--it's like they forget they're not at home. You know--sometimes people talk in the theater because they forget they're not sitting in front of their Blu-ray player on their couch? There's even a dedicated stall in this work toilet room for "Long termers"--complete with newspapers and magazines. It's the stall at the very end. And is always booked with someone wearing sensible shoes.

I'm trying to learn from this work experience. Try the end stall. Be an empathetic manager. These people are good people--Work just isn't #1 on the list--neither, apparently is urinating.  I suppose it's a good lesson to learn. But I"m getting nervous. I haven't been finding anything in my field of television--and I"m scared I'm going to have to be a spokesperson for the rest of my life. And start wearing sensible state worker shoes? I almost cried this week, when a talk show I contract for contacted me and asked "Are you on board for Season 9?" I yelled out loud in my office--"GOD BLESS DR. PHIL!" Let me go interview crazy people who are addicted to talking on their cell phones in public restrooms...just don't make me manage them anymore.

Sadly, this job would have been perfect for the relationship with Mr.--sorry--PP. Leave at 5. No homework. No worries. My stressful TV gig kinda put too much stress on the guy gig too. I've thought about that a lot since the bathroom situation...would it be easier to find another dude right now--than find another job? Maybe. I sort of miss being in love. That feeling for schwa, takes your mind off the little things. Like this bizzaro-world bathroom and the creatures that inhabit it. Thanks Gretchen. Your gonna force me into online dating aren't you? (Insert toilet flush here)