It's the little things...

My next job had better have an actual separate ladies room.

It's not that I'm pissy about "Ewww, it's dirty," or anything like that; it's just that I've been standing here waitin' and dyin' for forty-five minutes while he's in there camped out. What the feck is goin' on in there? He didn't take a magazine, so he's not reading. Is he building a ship in a bottle? Does he have a health problem? Is he tryin' to get off in there?

Forty-Five Gaw-Damn Minuntes! What am I going to have to do here? Should I try & hunt up one of those paper funnels like they have in the gas stations and go make a Trucker Bomb?? I shouldn't have to do that, should I? I'm indoors, I'm at work, this should not be a "desperate situation," but I'm thinkin' about goin' outside and finding a place to hide!!

Even when that asshole comes out, it'll still be a while before anybody can get in there 'cause he either thinks he's too good for air freshener or can't read well enough to figure out what that little spray can is for.

Other people have to use that bathroom, today, and dammit, your sh!t stinks too! Don't torture other people with it!!