Thursday, April 21, 2011

Is there a walrus in my room?

[On my drive to work this morning, I was informed that I would be having a guest post today from TheGreatCon, aka Con Lee. Show him some love. Here is his story.]

My job requires that I travel a lot. Typically, I will be on the road three to four weeks of the month. Needless to say, I am familiar with the process which accompanies traveling (i.e. TSA requirements, hotels, car rentals, local food hot spots, etc.). In fact, there is something to be said about going into a hotel and having them treat you pretty well because you have earned their respect… or rather, you have spent thousands with their company. Regardless, at the end of a long day, I can go back to my private room and relax, unwind, catch up on emails and talk to my wife and friends.

Recently, my job relocated to New York City (Upper East Side to be exact) for the entire month of April. Each year, I enjoy this particular case because it gives me a chance to visit NYC and enjoy all it has to offer, and my wife will even travel out over the weekends when she can. Plus, it’s an opportunity to make a good deal of money as well.

Now, because the cost of living is so high in NYC, we are forced asked to share tiny one-bedroom apartments with our coworkers. Fine, I understand that. It makes sense to save money that way.

Here is the problem: I was paired up with my boss who loves to stay out drinking all night. As you can imagine, when he gets back to the apartment, he is a little gassy AND being 65 years old, has somewhat of a bladder issue. Still, both issues are what you can expect from drinking all night.

However, the bathroom is located in my bedroom and to get in there he has to slide the door open, which happens to also be off its track (I have already tried to fix it, it’s just old, like my boss) and walk right past my head.

No kidding – if you are using the toilet in my bedroom, you are no less than 10 feet from my bed. So, of course, I wake up several times throughout the night to the door sliding open and my boss wearing only an undershirt and his tighty whities walking past me to the bog.

Except the past two night have been cause for alarm. I am starting to hear the sound of a person who doesn’t have a high fiber intake and is still VERY gassy. For several minutes, I lay in bed, sickened and forced to listen to what I can only assume is the slaying of a walrus.

Oh, and someone never closes the bathroom door either! “Hey Guy!!! Are you serious?! Close the effin door!” I yell to him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were awake” he replied. “I don’t care, ALWAYS close the door. What is wrong with you?”

Let that soak in for a minute…

Finally, I made it back to bed and got up at 6am to head out to work. I have a nice note apologizing. Thanks!

So the moral of the story? As long as you write an apology note, anything you do is forgivable.

That said, payback is a bitch.

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  1. Found this blog at Poets United. Con, this post made me laugh until I almost peed, because I used to have a frequent houseguest who would do the same. Flatulent as a whoopie cushion and stumbling around at all hours.

    I NEVER apologized for yelling at him, and now he's dead. I'm waiting for the lightning to strike me, because my motto is: Karma is a bitch.

    Amy Barlow Liberatore

  2. Thanks, Amy. Follow up to 'Is there a walrus in my room?' on it's way shortly. Stay tuned!