I use portable toilets in three instances: 1) hiking or some other wilderness activity, 2) a triathlon or some other race, and 3) a county fair or festival.
You will notice that "4) at work" is not on that list. And yet ...
Yes, my friends, those are port-a-johns standing guard outside the doors to my office. They have three friends around the corner.
See, last week a toilet backed up, and then all of the rest of them did too. For one unpleasant day, my office of 60 or so people were sharing two toilets in the press room, which is dark, cold and a little scary and has much too thin walls.
But, hallelujah, we got a plumber, he worked his magic and the toilets were back.
For 48 hours. Then the toilet 20 feet from my desk was flushed "just to check things out." A coworker's desk was flooded in a matter of minutes. Suddenly, we were back to no toilets, but this time no toilets was accompanied by skull-pounding industrial-strength fans and an aroma of raw sewage that was combated by chemicals that gave everyone a headache.
The portable toilets showed up right about the time the people in the know started tossing around phrases like "one to two weeks" and "ripping up the old pipe."
The sound you hear? It's my soul crying.