Gender Bending

That’s my face watching the catfight

I started a new job on Monday, thank you very much. And while it is in the basement of an episcopalian church and I can hear organs playing funeral tunes while I’m writing emails, it’s not a bad gig. Strange, to be sure.

So strange, in fact, that there is no Men’s Bathroom. The organization is so small they’ve never had a man work there, and so the Men’s room, which would have been conveniently located in the nearest hallway, serves as the storage closet for old T-shirts and letterhead. There may have been an Easy button lying around the toilet seat, but I didn’t investigate too much.

Here’s the kicker: I was never explicity told I could use the Women’s bathroom, just the “bathroom down the hall.” So I passed the Women’s bathroom and walked down the hall, past doors leading to church group meeting rooms, and found nary a Men’s or unisex toilet. I naturally assumed my boss meantÃ‚ the Women’s bathroom.

On my first day, I took two shits in there. On the second, I was clogged, and on the third, I clogged it…



There are different levels of fear we experience in our lives. I’m sure this goes up there with being selected in the Vietnam draft and realizing you’ll be getting shot at in the jungle in a few weeks’ time. Being discovered walking out of a Women’s bathroom after it’s been clogged by a boss who probably didn’t intend you to be there in the first place is not something you want to have happen in your first week of work.

I think there comes a time in every man’s life that God bestows upon him the knowledge of professional plumbing skills, somehow transformed by dire need. I was blessed on this day. With a turd that had been stewing inside me for 2 hours causing sweat marks on my khakis, I gave no thought to the jostling sounds of the pipes when I entered. Hell, if I had given a second’s thought I would have shat myself for the umpteenth time this year.

But I flushed it good. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

NO! Because now I am stuck in a situation where I have no idea if I was given permission to poop in this bathroom, let alone wash my hands in there. It is the only bathroom on the floor and, I was told, I would have to use the Church bathroom if I wanted some privacy. As a jew, that doesn’t feel quite right.

I can, however, let all you men in on a little secret: it feels good to take a shit in a girls’ bathroom. Just the thought of some prissy woman coming in after me and blaming it on another woman makes everything slide out a little bit easier. Maybe my stinky, streaky poo will cause a catfight, as one coworker blames the other of leaving a godawful stench. And the other is so offended she thinks of nothing else to do but grab the accuser’s breasts and suckle at them in frustration…

But I still have to worry about splashing, leaving the toilet seat up, and all the other annoying giveaways like pubic hair stuck on the bowl. The grass is always greener, right?