Incitement to Riot
For reasons that might not be immediately obvious to anyone who has never worked there, my old job always brings toilet paper to mind.
That isn't really where you want it, though.
Unlike 7-year-old Anna, a grown, professional adult who finds herself stranded in an unstocked stall can't bellow at the top of her lungs, "TOIIIIIIIIIILET PAAAAAAAAAPERRRRRR!!!!!!!" until Mommy comes rushing to the rescue. It's a female problem, really. Boys only use toilet paper on special occasions. You know what I mean. Like the night before the big game against your high school football rivals.
Girls, on the other hand - and this is really the only area I can acknowledge any superiority on the part of the male sex - are pretty dependent on having the stuff around at all times. My sophomore year of high school, I remember, the (female) student government president was elected based almost entirely on a campaign promise to make sure that the restrooms would be stocked with toilet paper at all times. If she'd been able to follow through (apparently it just wasn't in the budget), it would have saved us all a lot of wasted hours. And they wonder why boys do better in school!
This afternoon I drove across town to meet with another division about putting the registration form for our big annual conference online. A couple of my fellow refugees from the old job work at that campus now. I figured I'd get to hang out, which was something; otherwise, I wasn't sure why we needed to meet in person - the task is simple enough - but when I arrived, the guy told me that actually it needs to be coordinated through someone else, so he can't really do anything with my information anyway. My friends from the old job, meanwhile, took vacation today to make a long weekend, since we get tomorrow off.
"Well," I thought, climbing back into the car for a return trip about twice as long as my meeting had been, "that was totally pointless."
I should break in tomorrow and T.P. their office, is what I should do.