July 11, 2003~~5:05 p.m.
Conspiracy Theory
I have started a rumor with myself that there is a conspiracy at e.ScIenToLogY to try to get me to quit my job here. Perhaps it was the comments I made about the lack of diversity in the illustrations of L. Ron�s book I had to read the first few months of my employment. Maybe it was the time I confused Rowena with a comment about L. Ron�s contradictory diatribe about socialism and capitalism. Who knows. At any rate, things around here have gotten MUCH worse. It�s not like the lack of air conditioning in 100 degree heat is anything new. Last summer, we all suffered through a disgustingly stuffy and hot summer where the building�s old air conditioning unit would only work in the early morning. Someone came up with the bright idea that if we run the hell out of the air conditioner when it is cool outside, it will lower the temperature in the building enough to last throughout the day. This is a fallacy. The only thing that �method� did was cause The Little Air Conditioner That Couldn�t to basically go on strike around 1:00 p.m. each day, just when things in the Sacramento Valley were really starting to heat up. Then someone suggested that if everyone kept their window shades down, it would help with the temperatures. This is a fine idea, but really, there is no turning back when you work on the second floor of a building whose temperatures are reaching upwards of 90 degrees each day with little or no air flow. Not to mention that everyone needed to wear sweaters in the early morn, when the AC was blasting us to the Arctic and back with little or no warning. Finally, someone decided to do something about this air conditioner problem. The thought occurred to them around June 1, of this year. Yes, that is right. When all the people in the whole world are wanting air conditioners installed or repaired. We put up with repairmen tromping around the building for a few weeks, �working� on things and tearing holes in the ceiling because, well, there was finally a light at the end of a very hot tunnel. We were promised that the air conditioner would be fixed by July 25. �Perfect!� I thought to myself sarcastically and with a great deal of bitterness. Just when I will be about to pop with child and a week from leaving to go on maternity leave. �Better timing could not have been found!� Then, two days ago, I went to use the restroom for the first of MANY daily trips and noticed that the room held a large, blowing fan and smelled distinctly of wet cardboard. That afternoon, we were sent an email explaining that there was a leak in the bathroom ceiling that would take until Friday to fix. Until then, we ladies of Floor 2 were to use the downstairs bathroom (2 stalls only). Albeit inconvenient for a pregnant woman of my state (having a hopefully cute, but slightly unwelcome visitor on my bladder constantly) to have to traipse down the stairs each time I must urinate, I was willing to make the trip downstairs to use the bathroom (where, undoubtedly, there is always a line for the 2 stalls, now). It was only for a day or two, after all. Yesterday, we were notified that the upstairs bathroom would not be fixed until July 23. In fact, the exact wording of the email read: ETA for completion of repairs: Wednesday the 23rd. (Tangent: ETA stands for �Expected Time of Arrival.� I have never known repairs to �arrive� anywhere. I�m done now.) I was pissed. I simply cannot spend all day going up and down the stairs every damn time I have to pee, which is often. I suggested that we share the upstairs men�s room with the 4 men that work on the second floor (approximately 30 women work up there) but was denied with the explanation that �the upstairs men�s room is not equipped for co-ed use.� What the hell does THAT mean? What kind of co-ed use do you think I, an 8 months pregnant woman would consider taking part in, in a men�s room? And if she was referring to the urinal/stall setup, I say, can�t they point their peters into a regular toilet for one fricking week behind closed doors? I am miffed and bitter. Not only that, but wouldn�t you know that I have to walk by the Mulleted Receptionist�s desk to get to the downstairs bathroom. Which brings up the worst of the worst of the week. Last night, I was clocking out of the building when I ran into MR. Expecting the usual irritating �little momma� comment to be directed at me in only the third person, to be sure, I was pleasantly surprised to have her say nothing to me. I was walking out the front door of the building, silently praising God for the little things, noticing that she was nowhere to be found at the reception area. I was in the clear. Just then, as I opened the front door, I hear the distinct chirping of a gray mullet: �g�night, little momma!� I kept walking and didn�t look back, but I seriously considered crumpling to the ground in agony and defeat. The day had reached its bitter, bitter end. I have three more weeks at e.scientology. Will I survive? Stay tuned�
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