“We simply aren’t going to spend that kind of money on an employee ventilation request. The option on the building lease comes up soon, and we could be moving to Houston sooner than some think. Our budget certainly doesn’t have allocations for those expenditures”, retorted Dan Dollars, Vice President of Finance.
Veronica Vip, the director of employee services, then interjected. “I’m tired of dealing with these clowns. First they were putting up those childish Mr. Oh No stickers all over the place, slandering everybody. Then they’re trying to organize a boycott of the men’s room. Why can’t we just get rid of them? Who needs a couple of corporate clowns like that? They act like they’re in the 6th grade.”
“Johnny Jumbo is a valuable employee, he works hard. I’m not so sure about his friend Michael Miscue, but at any rate I’d rather not loose a couple of programmers over the issue. Let’s try to fix the bathroom vents”, added Fritz Friendly, Vice President of Technology. “I mean, have you ever been in that bathroom, say, around two-thirty in the afternoon?”
“O.k., o.k., everybody”, John Jester, the company President said. “Now, we all know we can’t afford to fix the bathroom, yet Fritz doesn’t want to fire these clowns. So we’ll continue to ignore their protests over the smell of the bathroom. I’ve never noticed it being that bad. They can hold it until they go home if they don’t like it. Just ignore the clowns if they give you you anymore flak Veronica.”
“We’ve done every damn thing we can to bring it to their attention. I’d hate to have to use the ace in the hole, but they’re ignoring all of our protests”, stated Michael Miscue. “It would be nice to be able to use the restroom at work without getting grossed out. I’m tired of the place smelling like some rundown gas station bathroom.”
“Yeah, the other day you could smell the damn place out at the coffee counter. I think an odorous cloud floats around the building, being pushed by the air conditioner currents”, shot back Johnny Jumbo.
“Well, I think it’s time to nuke ’em”, said Michael Miscue. “You gonna call the number, or should I?”
“I’ll do it. I’m the one who’s always on the can, anyhow”, answered Johnny Jumbo.
“Ms. Vip, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to file a cease and desist order. According to CAL-OSHA regulation 25 (c), any employee lavatory which has a STINK-METER reading of over 3.0, is unsafe for working conditions.” The CAL- OSHA representative was serious in appearance, yet he still received an unbelieving response.
“Now Listen, I’ve got enough children of my own. I don’t have time for games. Who are you and how did you get in here?”, queried Veronica Vip.
“I’m a CAL-OSHA field rep. A couple of your employees brought me in here. Besides, I’ve got state authority to enter any work places.”
“And you were telling me about this STINK-METER ?”
“Yes, quite an instrument. It’s allowed us to enforce our public health policy. Any reading over 3.0 indicates a lack of ventilation. At 10:00 a.m. I got a 5.2 reading in your first floor men’s room. At 2:30 p.m., I read a 6.7 in the same room. Ms. Vip, that is a California state record. What you have here is a killer can.”
“You expect me to believe this?, I’ll bet Johnny Jumbo and Michael Miscue are behind this game some how. I’m loosing my patience.”
“I’ll have you know that I am a verifiable Stinkologist, Ms. Vip. I’ve analyzed the development of your lavatory stink cloud. It forms at about 9:00 a.m., gathering strength until about 3:30 in the afternoon. Then, due to various current influences, the cloud moves about the building. By 8:30 or so at night, the cloud has dissipated. This is a quite serious health threat.”
“Gas cloud, huh? Now I’ve had about enough. I’m going to show you once and for all that this is a bunch of baloney. Excuse me Mr. CAL-OSHA.”
“No, Ms. Vip, don’t light that match in there!”
“Hey those CAL-OSHA guys really do their job, Johnny. Did you see that new open-air men’s restroom we got now?”
“Yeah. I guess we’ve got no more gripes. I’m kinda glad we had to call the officials. That really is a fresh-air restroom.”
“Oh, yeah. One other thing.”
“What’s that, Miscue?”
“How the hell did Veronica singe her eyebrows?”