Whoever said the human body was a beautiful thing was obviously never exposed to a corporate bathroom.

I submit to you, the Viad Financial Corporations fecal refuse disposal facilities. A cramped, three stall enclosure, approximately the size of most Kleenex boxes. A place where, in addition to being bombarded by the staccato bursts of explosive bowel vacations of your coworkers, you can also have the pleasure of exposing yourself to conditions so rank, you feel as though you would be better advised to urinate on yourself as a means of sanitization.

Another charming aspect is that whoever design these amenities, Nazi defectors would be my first suspicion, decided that the bathroom stall doors should swing INWARD. In other words, you are in a stall a little over 3 feet by 6 feet, and the door is going to open up and take nearly half of the standing room away from you in a snap, the other 3 feet of the stalls free range space are occupied by the toilet, which is squatting in the corner and laughing at your honky ass attempts to exit the area without coming into contact with any nasty ass surfaces. As you probably guessed, most attempts fail and you end up touching a wall that has absorbed the aroma of a thousand burrito Friday dumps.

Of the three stalls, two of the ‘flush’ settings are apparently dialed to the ‘Enya’ setting, where instead of a good, hearty, Orson Wells style flush that consumes all fecal matter in a mighty gulp, they merely swirl around, lazily stirring up the shrapnel yet never actually disposing of any of it. The other stall, the third one, is set on “Attack Mode” which is the setting that is most closely akin to handing the scalpel to Jeffery Dahmer to perform a circumcision.

I am not sure what Attack Toilet’s problem is exactly. I am guessing that somewhere along the line, unlike his more mellow compatriots, Attack Toilet decided that he had had enough of swallowing loafs with half digested corn embedded in them and decided to strike back.

At any rate, the point here is that Attack Toilet does not just flush, it shoots out a stream of water at about 200 PSI that doesn’t necessarily flush the toilet bowl, it more just BLASTS the hell out of whatever is in it, into the surrounding area. If we ever needed to send turds into space for some reason, NASA would set Attack Toilet outside and aim him into the stratosphere.

So yeah, let’s say you accidentally forget that stall number three is the Nazi Crap Chamber O’ Death and your dumb ass uses it. You flush and RIGHT THEN you remember that you have activated the commode that is about to rain gale force poo on you. You have exactly ONE, ONE THOUSANDTH OF A SECOND to finished any uncompleted zipping or tucking, open the door, avoid the rising tidal wave, and escape to safety.

“Everybody run! POO-Nami!”

So, when I am not being treated to the sounds of the Viad Financial Percussive Gastric Intestinal Symphony, I am dealing with some of the other illustrious individuals of the ranks of Viad’s employee pool.

For the most part, I do really like my coworkers. There are some truly friendly and remarkable individuals that I work with. There are also some individuals who were apparently shipped into the new hire class by accident. In lieu of sanitized, non-odorous, staff members who are capable of handling the nominal tasks of hygiene, we apparently got the order of temps who were originally destined for the job where they remitted to crouching under a bridge in the forest and swipe at children wearing bonnets and pantaloons.

Anyway, one problem, and I hate to bitch…no wait…I love to bitch…and you love to hear it. That’s why you come here and read my inane ranting every week. Ok, I love to bitch.

At any rate, I was forced to disconnect various network connections at work to force the relocation of one said individual. This person was apparently purchasing her perfume by the gallon at “Big Ed’s Discount Smell Emporium” and has the same wafting pleasant aroma as the vacuum cleaner bags at the Ramada. I am serious, it is the EXACT same smell.