Working with pigs

I can only conclude that the men who work on my floor are pigs.

Or at least one of them is. He's probably from some hicktight suburb on the Missouri side. You know, one of those guys who has those cartoons on his pickem' up truck of Calvin pissing on a Chevy logo, or a Ford logo, or Hillary Clinton or whatever.

You know, the kind of guy who, at 35 years old still thinks its cool to stick a pinch of chaw between your cheek and gum.

It just floors me that here I am working in a professional environment with ostensibly educated people but there are still some of those evolutionarily challenged proto-apes who have managed to squeal, wiggle and squeeze their way up through the cracks in the HR screening processes.

What led me to this realization? Well as with most great epiphanies, it happened in the bathroom. I stepped up to the stall to "pay the water bill," and as I looked down to "point Percy at the porcelain" I saw that someone had tried to spit a huge loogie into the urinal.

Unfortunately he missed, and the sick stack of sputum stuck to the top of the urinal. Cringing, I immediately looked up to assume the eyes forward position so I wouldn't have to see the funky wad of phlegm.

That's when I saw, staring back at me, several petrified snot rockets that some uncouth cretin decided the rest of us evolved human beings just had to see. Evidently this guy had nothing better to do than "mine for gold" and "pick a winner" while he was "shaking hands with the vicar." Makes me retch.

I think the I-70 rest stop outside of Topeka is a more pleasant experience.

tagged: work, gross, bathroom, pig, loogie, snot rocket