The Toilet Paper Contractor
Whodunit? The Toilet Paper Contractor.
How many office workers does it take to change a light bulb? Well, it doesn't really matter if you work at my place of employment - you wouldn't be able to keep track anyway. But let's make a futile attemt shall we?
The bulb changing process (ceremony? ordeal?) usually starts with an agent or employee complaining to his cubicle neighbor that "gee, it's dark in here." This would be about the time that they both decide to ignore the problem, thus ensuring the continued job security of the local optometrists (none of whom work at our place of business). Eventually, an assistant manager with half a brain will stuble by and, listening to the grumbling of the hapless agents, will actually form a plan of action. They'll go to the office manager who will tell them to talk to the receptionist who, actually knowing what to do, will call me. So that's six people, right? Oh no boys and girls, it's not MY job to change the bulb. My job is to delegate. So I locate the company handyman who must then notify the facilities manager that he's leaving the corporate office to trek over to God knows where using public transportation with God knows which terrorist group on board to get to the darkened office before finding out that they ran out of light bulbs six weeks ago.
These are the trials and tribulations of my new job - or as I like to call it, Adventures in Toilet Paper Contracting.
About a month ago, I accepted a latteral move within the company (i.e. more work with no extra money, but a view out a window if I look down the hall) as a facilities coordinator for our company's fifteen branch offices throughout Manhattan. The above paragraph gives you an idea of what that entails. I knew there would be a lot of s**t to do, but I thought that more figuratively than litterally. Oh, how wrong I was.
My first day on the job was spent preparing a brand new office for opening. Right up until the last minute, we didn't have toilet paper holders in the bathrooms. You can imagine how trying that would be on one's first day. The grand opening would be ruined if the rolls of TP (really, sandpaper on a cardboard tube) had to be put on the floor or on the back of the toilet. Anyway, my job in jeapardy, I frantically called the contractor multiple times until they rushed over, screwed the damn things on the wall and waltzed out just as the first agent reported for duty.
Don't worry, I checked the lights. A-OK.
The day saved, the company not at risk of falter, I thought my toilet paper holder experiences were behind me. But, of course, that was awfully naive of me. They were just beginning.
Would you believe it, and I swear I'm not making this up, the very next week we were having a grand re-opening party for one of our recently renovated offices and, you guessed it, one of the items on my 12 pages of to-dos was to have the contractor come in and install a toilet paper holder in a new bathroom they had put in. Now, I don't know all that much about building bathrooms, but I would guess that toilet paper holders are pretty standard. Why is it so hard to put them in, then??
Above image: A TP Holder almost identical to something very nearly similar to the ones used in our offices.
So I find myself once again on the telephone with the contractor. Job in jeapardy. Grand (re) opening. Need toilet paper holder ASAP.
I'm promised it will be done. I have nothing to worry about. Fortunately, we have a few days to finish the job.
In the meantime, I'm inspecting office number 14 on the upper west side. Picture it. Ground floor restroom. I take a look at the toilet paper holder. Something's wrong! It's missing that cheap plastic spinny bar thing that goes in the middle. UGH. Off to the hardware store. "Hi, I need a cheap plastic spinny thing that goes in the middle of a toilet paper holder." "No problem," says the unflinching clerk. "They're right over here." Crisis averted.
But back to the other office. Day of the party. The contractor installed the toilet paper holder the night before. But UH-OH. He has installed it too far away from the toilet and when the door is opened, it hits the toilet paper holder.
How they couldn't have seen this, I don't know. I expect they didn't care. It was just about this point that I didn't care anymore either. Let them fire me.
But of course I call the contractor back. I'm OWED a correctly installed toilet paper holder. "Don't worry," I'm told. "We'll get it fixed right away," they said. That was last Wednesday.
Today they came to fix it. "Yay", I think. Something I can cross off my list. Something I can list on my resume: successfully coordinated the installation of a toilet paper holder. So I head up to that office on a totally unrelated matter and decide to take a look the fruits of my labor. I open the bathroom door... It clears the toilet paper holder by a smidgen of an inch. Hallelujah! But wait... where's the toilet paper? UH-OH.... If you can't see where this is going, you may qualify to be a contractor. They door barely clears the holder. An EMPTY holder. I put the roll of toilet paper on and... yup. Door hits it.
Thank God tomorrow is Friday.
How many office workers does it take to change a light bulb? Well, it doesn't really matter if you work at my place of employment - you wouldn't be able to keep track anyway. But let's make a futile attemt shall we?
The bulb changing process (ceremony? ordeal?) usually starts with an agent or employee complaining to his cubicle neighbor that "gee, it's dark in here." This would be about the time that they both decide to ignore the problem, thus ensuring the continued job security of the local optometrists (none of whom work at our place of business). Eventually, an assistant manager with half a brain will stuble by and, listening to the grumbling of the hapless agents, will actually form a plan of action. They'll go to the office manager who will tell them to talk to the receptionist who, actually knowing what to do, will call me. So that's six people, right? Oh no boys and girls, it's not MY job to change the bulb. My job is to delegate. So I locate the company handyman who must then notify the facilities manager that he's leaving the corporate office to trek over to God knows where using public transportation with God knows which terrorist group on board to get to the darkened office before finding out that they ran out of light bulbs six weeks ago.
These are the trials and tribulations of my new job - or as I like to call it, Adventures in Toilet Paper Contracting.
About a month ago, I accepted a latteral move within the company (i.e. more work with no extra money, but a view out a window if I look down the hall) as a facilities coordinator for our company's fifteen branch offices throughout Manhattan. The above paragraph gives you an idea of what that entails. I knew there would be a lot of s**t to do, but I thought that more figuratively than litterally. Oh, how wrong I was.
My first day on the job was spent preparing a brand new office for opening. Right up until the last minute, we didn't have toilet paper holders in the bathrooms. You can imagine how trying that would be on one's first day. The grand opening would be ruined if the rolls of TP (really, sandpaper on a cardboard tube) had to be put on the floor or on the back of the toilet. Anyway, my job in jeapardy, I frantically called the contractor multiple times until they rushed over, screwed the damn things on the wall and waltzed out just as the first agent reported for duty.
Don't worry, I checked the lights. A-OK.
The day saved, the company not at risk of falter, I thought my toilet paper holder experiences were behind me. But, of course, that was awfully naive of me. They were just beginning.
Would you believe it, and I swear I'm not making this up, the very next week we were having a grand re-opening party for one of our recently renovated offices and, you guessed it, one of the items on my 12 pages of to-dos was to have the contractor come in and install a toilet paper holder in a new bathroom they had put in. Now, I don't know all that much about building bathrooms, but I would guess that toilet paper holders are pretty standard. Why is it so hard to put them in, then??
Above image: A TP Holder almost identical to something very nearly similar to the ones used in our offices.So I find myself once again on the telephone with the contractor. Job in jeapardy. Grand (re) opening. Need toilet paper holder ASAP.
I'm promised it will be done. I have nothing to worry about. Fortunately, we have a few days to finish the job.
In the meantime, I'm inspecting office number 14 on the upper west side. Picture it. Ground floor restroom. I take a look at the toilet paper holder. Something's wrong! It's missing that cheap plastic spinny bar thing that goes in the middle. UGH. Off to the hardware store. "Hi, I need a cheap plastic spinny thing that goes in the middle of a toilet paper holder." "No problem," says the unflinching clerk. "They're right over here." Crisis averted.
But back to the other office. Day of the party. The contractor installed the toilet paper holder the night before. But UH-OH. He has installed it too far away from the toilet and when the door is opened, it hits the toilet paper holder.
How they couldn't have seen this, I don't know. I expect they didn't care. It was just about this point that I didn't care anymore either. Let them fire me.
But of course I call the contractor back. I'm OWED a correctly installed toilet paper holder. "Don't worry," I'm told. "We'll get it fixed right away," they said. That was last Wednesday.
Today they came to fix it. "Yay", I think. Something I can cross off my list. Something I can list on my resume: successfully coordinated the installation of a toilet paper holder. So I head up to that office on a totally unrelated matter and decide to take a look the fruits of my labor. I open the bathroom door... It clears the toilet paper holder by a smidgen of an inch. Hallelujah! But wait... where's the toilet paper? UH-OH.... If you can't see where this is going, you may qualify to be a contractor. They door barely clears the holder. An EMPTY holder. I put the roll of toilet paper on and... yup. Door hits it.
Thank God tomorrow is Friday.
