The strongest people learn to survive. If a plane ever crashes in the middle of a deserted island you must learn to drink your own pee, eat little animals' insides, or, if you're lucky, join the cast of Lost.
The work place is not much different. Some days, the coffee tastes funky. Sometimes you eat questionable brownies a co-worker baked, one who you know for a fact neglects to wash her hands after she uses the bathroom.
But because you have no cash, your only choice is to persevere. You must learn to endure pointless three hour meetings, restricting business attire, and the pervy co-worker who sweats profusely and sits way too close to you on the bus. It's like working for Michael Scott sans any comedy or irony, so you must learn the other necessary rules of the jungle.""
You become skilled at getting away with wearing flip-flops. You learn never to print a document bigger than 15 pages at Printer Two. You master the Art of Passing Time. Only the fittest survive.
When my friends and I started working our new school jobs at various offices, we vowed to check in on each other and provide enough entertainment to make each other forget how our immobile asses were simultaneously getting bigger and molding funky shapes into our chairs.
To fill time, we sent bumper stickers on Facebook, made extravagant plans for eating at fancy restaurants and never followed through, and then, we took on a practice that is horribly vulgar - we began to discuss our bowel movements. After all, we needed to ensure our bodies were in their prime and able to endure the strenuous monotony that is working in an office.
All conversations took place on Gmail chat and started at approximately 9:06 a.m. when my two friends, Khrista and Leanne, and I were logged in and sipping our morning coffee. At about 9:17 a.m., after discussing how slow our day was sure to be, Khrista suggested we take a break in the bathroom for the mid-morning-post-coffee poop.
We timed it so that all three of us would be in the bathroom at our respective offices. We found this practice extremely entertaining, picturing our friends doing the exact same thing, and choking back laughter - It was embarrassing enough to have to actually use the office bathroom, and we did not need to be heard howling and snorting while on the toilet.
I found this practice entertaining for a few workdays, but then things were going too far, at least with my friend Leanne. She liked to poop throughout the day and kept us regularly updated on the state of her bowels. Leanne.Harris is pooping out her chicken salad sandwich! Her G-chat status would inform her buddies post-lunch.
I have always been comfortable around poop; it's what happens when your brother is so proud of his shit, he'll try and lure you into bathroom to showcase his talent. But Leanne's fixation on her own poop-shoot became too much for me and frankly, I feared one of my co-workers might see a description of her dinner at Frida's and the corn-infused poop that followed. In order to maintain my employment, things had to change.
The solution? I asked to refer to all of her turdy triumphs as Charts, so that the conversations, if stumbled on by a fellow worker, would appear to be work related. For example:
Leanne.Harris: What r u doing?
Me: I'm working on a PowerPoint u?
Leanne.Harris: I just made the biggest chart EVER! Just think of all the money I save on toilet paper by making my charts at work. Did u make any charts today?
Me: Nope, but I can have one in by the end of the business day if you need it.
We continue to survive due to our new lingo, and because we have the most powerful tools - each other. Sure our jobs sometimes induce boredom and an unhealthy obsession with poop, but our unwavering loyalty proves our friendship can survive the shittiest of times.
If you'd like to chat with Ashley while she's supposed to be ""working,"" e-mail aaspencer@wisc.edu.
