No phones

In spite of my devotion to technology, I am not a fan of cell phones. I was the last human being on the planet to get one -- funny what being stranded along the side of I-95 will do to a person. But it's been two years since then and I still barely use the thing. I'm about to downgrade my plan to fewer minutes.

I don't get people who insist on using their cell phones everywhere. I don't get these people walking around with headsets, talking to the wind. They look like idiots, and they're the only ones who don't know it. They have these Bluetooth things now that are tiny and mostly unobtrusive, but a few weeks ago I was in the Target and saw a guy wearing what looked like one of those headsets the football coaches use on the sidelines. I wanted to walk up to him and tell him, "call a draw play -- the defense won't expect it."

But what happened today took the cake.

I walked into the restroom in the building where I work and another guy came in just after me -- one of these guys who you can tell is trying a little too hard to be Mr. 21st Century Man. He's a multi-tasker, always on the go, always connected, can't take a minute of downtime in the dog eat dog business world. So basically, the kind of guy who makes you sick to your stomach.

Anyway, he goes into a stall, drops his newspaper on the floor, takes a seat and proceeds to, uh, let's just say he made a lot of noise. And then, seconds later, he's on the phone!

"Yeah, it's me, I just sent that fax, so it should be there. No, I've been in the office all morning. I'll ask them about it....."

The entire time he's talking, he's continuing to take just about the loudest shit I've ever heard in my life. I guess I should credit him with one thing, though. As he's talking and shitting, he's also working in an impressive number of courtesy flushes. So he has no regard for what the person on the other end of the phone is hearing, but at least he's not so crass as to make the rest of the folks in the bathroom endure his byproducts. Who is this guy and where did he learn that it's OK to engage in a business call while taking a dump? Because that's a job I want. I want the job where you can subject people on the other end of the phone to the sounds of explosive bowel movements and the repeated "Bawooosh" of the toilet. That's for me. Nothing like a casual workplace attitude.

So Mr. Mystery Shit finishes his very important call, and just before he picks up his newspaper off the floor, I notice it's The Washington Times ... which goes a long way toward explaining how he got so full of shit in the first place.