The New Danger

With the installment of a new UP Overlord in our building comes a new syndicate of fledgling contractor underlings. This new gang of peons requires the usual amenities: coffee, water, toilet paper, etc. Herein lies the problem. As the inflow of contractors increases, the strain put on the capacity of our limited resources does likewise. The infrastructure is beginning to swell, and it's only a matter of time until the pipes burst at their seams.

According to a report from one of “the reviewers,” the new underlings consumed three large pots of coffee before 9:00 AM, like how a plague of locusts cuts across a fertile plain. As one may have guessed, our water reservoir is being depleted with unprecedented speed to keep in stride with their consumption of coffee. With such ravenous use, one thing is a certainty: sustainability is at risk! Also, as we all know, coffee is a popular diuretic. Our toilets will fill up with prodigious amounts of shit and tissue paper relative to the rate our water levels are drained. I’ll let you do the math…

As you work your mind around the equation, here’s an important variable to keep in the back of your head: I present to you a certain underling, whom we will refer to as “Francis Buxton” due to previous evidence supplied by one of our ranks. [see posts "The New Backroom Guy...?" and "Further Evidence"] I entered the restroom earlier today to see a voluminous pair of jeans bunched up around a proportionately large set of cankles peeking out from under the stall divider. Needless to say, it’s embarrassing for both parties when you walk in on such a situation. However, when you factor in the smell and a series of grunts, groans, and complex breathing exercises usually reserved for birthing mothers, it just makes the experience that much more uncomfortable. The straw that broke the camel’s back, though, was when I heard a set of pudgy sausage-like fingers wrap around the railings on the inside of the stall divider. It became readily apparent that this was not your ordinary turd, as it took the full strength of both his upper and lower limbs to assist in powering it out…

The Airlite 9 have been caught in a constant whirpool of struggle to stay afloat in any given situation, but with the increasingly insurmountable odds weighing down at our shoulders, we just may sink. I only hope we can be as resilient as his turd must have been in its steadfast refusal to flush down that drain.

This brings up another interesting point as well, just to play devil's advocate against my whole argument. Is it advantageous to us that our numbers are swelling? Nevermind the old saying, "there's power in numbers," but if we are collectively a large turd spinning around in the toilet bowl that is Airlite (as I already alluded to), will we also become too large to flush? Just let that thought stew around in your head as well...