Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Adventures In Temping: Part Deux

So a few weeks ago I threw up at my temp job.

Normally I would not write about such a distasteful subject. (Vomiting, not my temp job). I was not raised in a household where talk of bodily functions was the norm. I do not enjoy bathroom humor. I have a British grandmother. I am often referred to as "proper" or "refined".
But, you guys, I seriously hurled.

When my family was in Utah for my brother's wedding, half of them came down with what I have chosen to call The Great and Terrible Death Flu of 2005. Even my honeymooning brother did not escape its wrath. And those who did were stricken soon after returning to their various homes. Only Steve and I and a few blessed others were spared.

Or so we thought.

A week after the wedding, I arose and drove to work as usual, feeling as fine as one could feel when one is working a job that one does not particularly care for because one would much rather be doing pretty much anything other than what one is being paid not nearly enough to do.

About noon, I started feeling a little queasy. About 12:30, my head was pounding and my stomach churning. About 12:45, I suddenly knew that I was in BIG TROUBLE. I bolted from the desk, racing to the bathroom as fast as my high heels could carry me. I flung open the handicapped stall door (I figured I qualified), and let's just say I made it in the nick of time.

Minutes later, leaning against the handicapped rail, I pondered the fact that I could not remember the last time I had had to avail myself of the facilities in that manner. I could remember having the flu as a kid, but it had been years since I had experienced that particular physical manifestation of illness. I hoped the same amount of years would pass before I experienced it encore.

Returning to my desk, feeling MUCH better, I realized that no one had witnessed my dash to the WC. Feeling grateful that my experience had been a solitary one, and knowing it would be a major hassle to find a mid-day replacement, I decided to try martyr on for size, and returned to work. For about 15 minutes, until I was forced to revisit the handicapped stall, and admit defeat.

Emerging from the ladies, I found my boss, and told her I had to leave. She eyed me suspiciously. "You were just fine an hour ago." I whimpered. She acquiesced.

I called Steve on the way home, and he told me he'd have a bucket ready. Later that night, as I became better acquainted with said bucket, he asked if there was anything he could do.

"Could you hold my hair?"

He did. He held my hair with one hand, and held an orange with the other. He ate the orange while he was holding my hair. I guess we've determined who will be on Future Children Vomit Clean-Up Patrol.


Layt said...

I think you should make him a VP armband (Vomit Patrol), MP-style, after the fashion of Bobby Brady when he was hallway monitor.

Layt said...

A fine example.

Kiki said...

One time while out at "the BY" (as Carina so affectionately calls it), I was in bed feeling really icky...the I'm-about-to-throw-up feeling. My roommate was sleeping inches away, and our bathroom was not much further. I didn't want to wake her because I hate people worrying over me, so I thought I could make it downstairs to that bathroom where the din of vomit meeting bowl couldn't be heard. At least I'd made it off of the carpeted stairs before I erupted all over the tiled bathroom. It was a mess. I was a mess. I wasn't sure how to clean it up; I was still half asleep. So I wiped the bathroom down with bleach.

I went back upstairs, brushed my teeth, changed into new clothes, and crawled into bed. Moments later my roommate woke up and smelled the bleach. She went exploring. She came back and asked me what I had done, and I told her. She asked, "Why didn't you come get me so I could clean it up?" That too, my friends, is love! I told her to quit being ridiculous and to go back to bed. She went to fetch me some water so I wouldn't dehydrate.

Kiki said...

P.S. Being sick is horrible. I'm glad you feel better.

Emmie said...


Fabulous links, as usual!


A touching story of true friendship. Everyone should have such roommates!

Lori said...

I really never would have guessed Steve would rise to the occasion like that. Howard Hughes, what's come over you?!?

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