Bathroom Phobia

“Hi, is this Marilyn in Human Resources?”

“Yes, how may I help you?” the prim voice on the other line asked.

“This is Selma, over in estimating. I have a worker’s comp claim I’d like to report.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Selma. Did you have an accident?”

Despite the confidential nature of her job, Marilyn had the demeanor of a gossipy mother hen. In her 20 years at the manufacturing plant, she had seen it all when it came to reasons for filing a claim - until today.

“Not exactly.”

“Have you been injured?”

“It’s more like severe emotional trauma combined with a sprained ankle.”

“Oh dear! Well, let’s start at the beginning. I’ll have to ask you a number of questions on the claim form. Just answer them the best you can.

“First, what was the date and time of the…”

“Incident”, I supplied helpfully.

“Er…incident.”

“Yesterday. At about 9:15.”

“Was this work related?”

“Well, not technically.”

“Did it happen on work premises?”

“Yes.”

“Are you able to return to work?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You are not able to perform your duties?”

“Oh, no. I can perform my duties just fine. It’s just that the office is too far away for me to go home every time I need to use the restroom.”

“Excuse me?”

"The John, the Head, you know, the Cra-

"Yes, but -

"That’s where the- um- incident happened.”

Marilyn cleared her throat. “I see. Let’s proceed shall we? Question number 5 - What machinery or equipment was involved in the…incident?”

“The toilet.”

“I beg your pardon?” Marilyn choked. I could picture her daily Double Decaf Latte shooting out of her nose.

“Well, indirectly.”

Marilyn hesitated. “I hate to ask this, but were there any witnesses to the incident?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Could I have the name of the witness please?”

“We really weren’t on a first name basis. I can describe him though, although- UGGH!” I shuddered, “even thinking about this is freakin’ me out. I think I’m starting to hyperventilate.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry to press, but- maybe just a description then?“

“No, no. I’m fine now. Ok, he was dark, and really, really quick. It all happened so fast. Before I knew what was happening it was over.“

“Oh my God! Selma are you ok? Did he come in from outside?”

“Well, I’m sure he did originally, but he must have been in the bathroom quite some time.”

“That’s horrible!” (I couldn't tell if it was excitement or horror I heard in her voice) "Did you call the police?”

“The police? No, but there are a couple of OTHER agencies I can think of to contact if this happens again. But, unfortunately, I think this type of thing probably happens to women quite often.”

“I know, my dear, but you have to stand up for yourself,” Marilyn was indignant now, “speak out about what happened.”

“I suppose you’re right. It’s just hard right now, the memory is too fresh. I’m sure in time I’ll be able to look back on this and laugh.”

“Laugh? Laugh? Selma, what-“

“Where was I? Oh, yeah. Like I said, he was dark and very fast - about 2” inches long-“

“What did you say?”

“I said he was dark-“

“No, no- I heard that part. Repeat the last part.”

“That he was 2 inches long? I’m just guessing. In fact he could have been much larger- maybe 3 or even 4 inches now that I think about it.”

“Wait,” Marilyn interrupted, “are we talking about an insect?”

“A cockroach, to be exact.”

“But I thought- well - I mean-“

“What?”

“Never mind.”

I couldn’t understand why Marilyn sounded so peeved. It didn’t happen to HER after all, and if she’d stop interrupting me I could get this over with!

“Selma, I don’t mean to be insensitive here. I mean, I hate cockroaches too- but I’m not seeing how this constitutes a workman’s comp claim.”

A slightly condescending, yet amused tone had crept into Marilyn’s voice, making me want to slap her.

“I’ll try to explain,” I articulated, as though speaking to a 4-year- old. I took a deep breath and plunged in. “I was sitting on the toilet when I reached under the sink and pulled out one of those individually wrapped rolls of toilet paper. You know, the kind that is only loosely wrapped in tissue paper?”

“Yes, I know the kind. Please go on.” I wondered if she had somewhere else she had to be, or whether she was just still testy because probably for the first time in her life she'd been rendered speechless.

“As I was unwrapping it, a HUGE cockroach fell out of the roll and scurried over my knee before plopping onto the floor. I jumped up onto the toilet seat, screaming, with my unmentionables around my ankles - ”

(Muffled sound on the other line.)

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Marilyn lied. “Then what happened?”

She could have at least TRIED to hide the naked curiosity in her voice, I thought.

“As I reached for the toilet brush to use as a weapon, my right foot slipped into the bowl…”

“Ewwwwww! You’d at least flushed hadn’t you?” Marilyn gagged.

“Let’s not even go there!”

“So,” I continued, picking up steam now, “I finally unwedged my soggy foot from the toilet, grabbed the brush and chased that sucker around the bathroom, swatting and jabbing at him, for a good 5 minutes. Too bad I flunked fencing in high school.”

I paused, having run out of breath by now.

“Anyway, he finally escaped into a crack. But now you can see why I absolutely can not go back into that bathroom.”

“Did you sprain your ankle when it slipped into the bowl?”

I could tell she was on the edge of her seat, as hungry for every detail as hot buttered popcorn at the Sunday afternoon cinema.

“Nah. Darn undies tripped me up when I ran smack into Bob as I hurried out of the bathroom. You know Bob in accounting, right? Somehow I don’t think he’ll ever be the same.” (Sigh)

(More muffled sounds.)

“Marilyn, are you laughing?”

“No, ah- um, no,” she giggled, “of course not.”

“Could we just get on with my claim now?” I snapped.

“Yes, of course, I’m just going to put you on hold one moment while I collect mysel- I mean, my forms.”

There was no hold music, but in the silence I could picture Marilyn doubled over, wiping runny Tammy-Faye-Baker-thick mascara out of her eyes. She was probably gathering her cronies over to the phone right now.

“Ok, Selma, one last question-“

“I’m not on speaker phone am I?”

“What? No-o. Now where was I? Oh yes. Was anyone else responsible for the incident? I mean,” she giggled, “other than the cock- excuse me, ahem, the cockroach?”

“Yes - the inconsiderate jerk who was in the bathroom before me! (Probably Bubba based on the god-awful, eye-burning vapor he left behind!) HE used the last of the roll and didn’t replace it. That should have been HIS cockroach!"

"Marilyn? Are you there? I can hear you, you know!"

Marilyn caught her breath and cleared her throat.

"Well, you've got a valid point Selma, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to file your claim in the round file."

"Re-ally. Well, then I'm not replacing the toliet brush. And somebody owes me a new pair of shoes!"