Frosted (gl)ass
My office has been in turmoil of late. In a desperate bid to quell a growing sense of disillusionment among the workforce; management thought it a good idea to spunk loads of cash on faffing with the look of our office.

Given the current economic climate they could easily have told us to shut the fuck up, stop complaining and pray they don't start wielding the unemployment axe with wild abandon, but all credit to them for going the extra mile and slapping some paint on the walls instead.

As a cyclist I like to shower when I get to the office, and I imagine my colleagues prefer that I do so too. The refurbishment of our previously perfect shower room appears to have involved throwing all the old towels away, fucking up the shower head so it dribbles tepid water on you like a geriatric dog, and removing the covering from the glass panels in the door.

The shower room sits in a rather busy corridor that connects the where people sit bit with the where people eat and get coffee and stuff, bit. Those who use the shower made a bit of a fuss about our sudden loss of privacy, and those who don't use the shower made an equally pointed fuss about our sudden loss of privacy... it seems no one wants to see my sweaty balls of a morning, and why would they?

I arrived this morning after a particularly sweaty cycle and took myself shower-ways. Upon entry to the darkened room it appeared as though the glass panels had been covered, so I closed the door, peeled off my cycling gear and clambered into the cubicle. Only when I stepped out again did I realise that, rather than actually blacking out the panels, a sticky frosted effect had been pasted onto them instead, meaning that anyone passing and glancing sideways as I bent down to step into my pants would have witnessed a slightly blurred, highly un-erotic and very unexpected view of my rusty sheriff's badge glaring back at them through the frosted pane.

I fear there may be more complaints to follow.
( Moey, Thu 28 May 2009, 15:29, Reply)