Chapter 7: Piss Wars

Meanwhile, Gospel’s mother, Serena Grimes, was involved in a pressing moral struggle.

It started out with blood.

Centaur Fulfillment limited the number and duration of staff bathroom breaks, with the result that people who were elderly, on a heavy, or just drank a lot of soda before work risked getting written up. Three write ups and you’re fired. Worse, the bathrooms were a long way from the far ends of the warehouse aisle. You didn’t have to click in for a potty break until you got to the door, but your pick rate went down as you trudged the long walk to the restroom. Plus, again, if you had anything messy to take care of, or just needed a little time, the buzzer would sound before you finished. Plus, again, there just weren’t enough bathroom.

“Pinch it off!” you’d hear from outside the door, followed by banging from someone whose pick rate was falling as he or she waited.

Result: People peed in empty soda bottles and rolled them under the big metal risers. Made a quick tampon switch and tossed the used product the same place. Likely the rats would eat them. But then one woman flooded, half a city block’s length from the bathroom, and, ashamed, left the pool of blood on the floor without telling anyone. Someone else, a few minutes later, found the puddle and called 911.

Six weeks and many higher-up meetings later, Serena Grimes’ boss called her into the human resources office where she worked as an errand-runner, copy machine fixer, and front-line, unacknowledged, calmer-of-employees-who-were-about-to-snap.

They sat in the huddle room, a trendy little conference spot dressed up as a playroom. A mobile reflected the blue and yellow light scheme, and a table shaped like an amoeba held Kim’s laptop. Serena, wearing Dr. Scholls and jeans, sat across from Kim, who was wearing trendy jeans and a light cardigan to which was pinned a broach made to resemble a TARDIS.

“I see you’re a fan,” Serena said, smiling. Gospel, who was about Kim’s age, also liked Doctor Who.

“Oh, yes, I just love Matt Smith,” Kim cooed. “And the new Doctor — who plays him?”

Put on the spot, Serena cleared her throat. “I have to report down at the resource center in ten minutes … unless you registered our meeting on the general scheduler?”

“Oh … ” Kim patted the seat closer to her. “We won’t take that long.”

Serena saddled closer, until she could smell Kim’s orchid perfume. She was uncomfortably aware that she’d been running all morning.

“So we have to comply with a bathroom access regulation,” Kim said. “The full text is in the general resource file.” She rattled off a file tree location, but didn’t give Serena time to write it down. “It’s not from Legal, it’s from Corporate Culture, meaning that we internally are expanding our ethical values to include ample bathroom access for all people, regardless of their legal right to pee or poop.”

She smiled.

“So we want to find people who might need extra help — you understand. People who have heavy periods or flooding, people who, er, are elderly and take longer, people who are on medication that sends them to the potty a lot … we’d like you, casually, to identify these people so we can understand their needs and help them to potty in the most efficient and comfortable manner possible.”

She smiled again.

Serena looked at her. She folded her hands carefully on the amoeba-shaped table. “You want me to make a list of problem pissers.”

Kim giggled. “Yes. And to avoid embarrassment — for them — we do need to keep this sub rosa. Under the table. Just ask around, do your own observations. And you can access the bathroom login/logout records, and the personnel heath files.” She handed over a piece of paper with a scribbled file location and password. “But you really want to be careful with the way you describe your search parameters. For kindness’ sake. You understand.”

Serena stood up. She looked at the folded paper. She smiled carefully at Kim.

“I’m happy to help.”

“Well, back to the grind,” said Kim, slipping her feet back into her kitten-heeled pumps with coy bundles of pink ribbon on the toes.

“Back to the grind,” Serena agreed.