20 Questions

Chapter 120

Hunter

The amount of stupidity I dealt with at my work meeting was astronomical and that's putting it mildly.  I realize not everyone has that creative vision, but I didn't fathom just how many people lack the common sense gene as well.  I got up and left the room after one particularly delightful conversation.

Co-worker:  The client wants a bathroom that houses two urinals.  You know, in case both of them have to pee at the same time.

Me:  I mean, does that happen a lot?  With all the time they spend together, have their bladders synched up like girls and their best friend's menstrual periods do?  Is that what we are dealing with here?

Co-worker:  It could happen.  So, let's find a way to make their dreams come true.  I have some ideas.

Me:  Not to be a urological dream killer here, but have you seen the size of that bathroom?  It's tiny.  There's no way they could properly install two urinals in there without knocking down the wall and taking space from the spare bedroom.  Can't they just take turns relieving their bladders or piss in the backyard like every other male I know?

Co-worker:  Hunter, you aren't being sensitive to our clients' needs.  We could put the urinals caddy-cornered from each other.

Me:  Because our clients are fucking headcases, John!  Who wants to take a piss and whisper in another man's ear at the same time?  If you all want to build a bathroom for the Menendez brothers, have at it, but I'm out.  That shit is creepy.

I storm out of the board room with my head spinning and my boss right on my heels.  I sit down at my desk and bury my head in my hands.  I feel like God is testing me.  There's no way people can be that goddamned stupid.  I look up to find my boss smirking at me.

"Sorry," I huff, shaking my head.  "I know I was out of line in there and unprofessional with my co-workers.  It's been a long week and the last thing I want to deal with is John and his fucking dueling urinals.  I don't even understand who gave his dumbass a degree.  Do you think his parents paid off the Dean or do you think he gave hand jobs to all his professors?  Because there's not a shot in hell he finished the program with his inspiring design ideas."

Tim, my boss, is doubled over with laughter, holding his stomach and trying to catch his breath.  Thank God he's a cool dude and an understanding one at that.  I saw him rolling his eyes in there, on the same page I was at John blowing total absurdity in everyone's direction.  Just when I think he can't be anymore ignorant, he delivers me a toileting nightmare in a big, fat urine-soaked package. 

I need some sex and a nap.

I don't see either happening in the near future.  A nap because there is too much going on with my father and the shitbag we have tied to a chair in the basement.  Sex because Jenna has been on her period without actually being on her period since Friday.  Her mood is not of the enchanting and enjoyable variety.  I realize she is stressed out and pissed off about Griffin, but she could definitely stand to be a lot less...hostile.

"You were a little hard on Johnny boy, but he definitely deserved it," Tim admits.  "I swear, that dude is a few fries short of a Happy Meal."

"No, that dude is missing all the fries, the potatoes and the whole state of Idaho.  He's missing the entire Happy Meal and has been deported to a deserted island, thousands of miles away from a McDonald's," I correct him.  "I've yet to see him send an email without at least ten different grammatical errors or misspelled words.  Remind me again why you hired him?"

"I ask myself that daily," he says, rolling his eyes.  "He had a good idea at his interview.  Little did I know, it would be the only good idea he's had in the six years he's worked here."