(For those of you who thought I was talking about a pregnancy test, APRIL FOOLS! I did pee in a cup but It wasn't for a pregnancy test... It was for a DRUG test. And my thoughts were not necessarily on what was inside the cup, but more on what was splashing on my hand outside of it....)
After feeling like a crack addicted loser, I pulled my pants up and went to walk out the door and there it was, the door knob. How many people today touched that knob? How many people weren't allowed to wash their hands after having to pee on them, and then touched that same knob. And how many people's pee am I now coming into contact with? (Shudder)
I quickly opened the door, and handed over the pee to the lady with rubber gloves on. Yes, they gave HER rubber gloves. Where were my rubber gloves? After all it was MY hands that held the cup, and MY hands that were now covered in my, and everyone else pee. I handed the cup over to the gloved lady and started to walk over to the faucet. She stops me, and tells me I have to wait. The faucet with its big nose and bulging eyes just stares, and if faucets could laugh, this one would have the meanest, most sinister one of all...(a combination of Ursala and the Green Goblin if your lacking in imagination)
The glove lady fills the small tube and hands the half filled cup back to me instructing me to dump it out. Out of instinct I head straight to the faucet, revenge for mocking me!
"NOT in there" she shouts.
My face turns bright red, "Oh, right" She points her long, crooked rubber covered finger towards the toilet in the small bathroom stall. I avoid touching the the door knob and dump whats left in the cup down into the bowl. Then I see it. You see public bathrooms are the worst thing to me but I understand they are necessary. However, what terrifies me more then using public bathrooms is flushing public bathrooms. Snap, I hear the glove lady remove her gloves in the other room and dispense of them in the trash.
I gulp and press my fingers on the lever. "Swwwrrsh" echos in the stall. Feeling extremely vulnerable and humiliated, I quickly slide past the door, (avoiding the doorknob) and towards the sink. I turn the handles of the sink, and thrust my hands into the water. I scrub my hands as thoroughly as possible. Under my breath I mumble to the glove lady about how much her job sucks, forgetting that the reason I was here was because of my own. I shake my hands and grab a paper towel from the dispenser.
The hard part was over. She hands me my copy of the carbon paper slip, that now proves to my employer that I complied with their little test, and that yes tomorrow on my last day I will be a "Drug Free Employee". Its comforting to know that they will be able to sleep knowing that no drug dealers are running a muck in the scrapbook world for at least one more day. I think to myself as I exit the big glass doors, "It's all for the name of scrap booking".
So the next time you, your mother or sisters are sitting down to scrapbook, please remember the sacrifices, trials and tribulations of those who made that cute, and oh so adorable little sticker or dye cut.
As I leave the scrap booking world, I leave my legacy.
POST DEDICATION: This post was dedicated to a dear friend of mine who recently got to pee in a cup for a much better purpose. You know who you are, so I won't mention names... I hope this speaks to you in more ways than one.