I decide to take the Broad Street Line to the Quest Diagnostic lab to dutifully complete my pre-employment drug test and it starts out just like any other errand.
This isn't my first pre-employment drug test so I spend the morning chugging liquids so that I don't have to wait in that depressing waiting room with a dry bladder forcing down teeth-aching cold water from a triangular paper cup as the parolees eye me up. I drank a water bottle full of water, a can of sprite, and a whole leg-jittering cup of coffee.
I took the subway by MYSELF! for the first time ever--and even took the train going in the right direction AND then even got off at the right stop! I exit the subway station strutting toward the lab like a proud little subway-mastering peacock.
Then as I open the door to the lab, I immediately am struck with a panicky thought as I think about last week's concert where pot smoke was wafting through the air, "What if I fail because of second-hand pot smoke," I think. "What if I ate poppy seeds without knowing it, what if that bee pollen I eat shows up as meth?"
A guy from inside opens the door for me and snaps me back to reality.
I sign in and a lab worker takes my ID and my paperwork and I wait for them to call me up as I choose the least filthy chair to sit in. The Quest waiting room is like the Dept. of Motor Vehicles and full of words that start with g like -- grungy, gray, grubby, and full of gloom.
My bladder is full to the brim and I'm hoping they call me in soon because I'm so full of pee that my eyeballs are floating.
I glance around the room and try to figure out who's a parolee, who's sick and who's just there for a pre-employment drug test like me. I decide that the girl with thick eyeliner and purple hair is a parolee and every time she moves I try to look for track marks on her arms. I give up on her and then try to determine which gang the guy to my right is in by studying his prison tats. He catches me staring and I give him a nervous smile so that he doesn't think I'm judging him.
Half hour goes by and I am going to pee my pants. I ask how long and they tell me that there are 3 people ahead of me. I eye them enviously as they're called up to the potty.
I cross my legs and wonder how I'm going to uncross them without peeing all over myself.
Another half hour goes by and they call me up, give me a cup and I lock up my belongings in a locker.
I get into the bathroom, slowly because I'm in pee-holding agony, mentally yelling at myself that, "You're 30 years old and you're NOT going to pee your pants!"
"No less than this line, don't flush the toilet and knock on the door when you're done," she instructs me. "Don't flush the toilet," she repeats.
I take the cup, run to the toilet and without even bothering for the door to close I let loose, overfilling the cup and then UNABLE TO STOP! peeing all over my hand, the toilet seat, the floor and my flip flops.
"Shit!" I say looking for paper towels, and there aren't any and there's a sign that says "Use sink outside of bathroom, DO NOT flush toilet, knock on door when finished."
This isn't my first pre-employment drug test so I spend the morning chugging liquids so that I don't have to wait in that depressing waiting room with a dry bladder forcing down teeth-aching cold water from a triangular paper cup as the parolees eye me up. I drank a water bottle full of water, a can of sprite, and a whole leg-jittering cup of coffee.
I took the subway by MYSELF! for the first time ever--and even took the train going in the right direction AND then even got off at the right stop! I exit the subway station strutting toward the lab like a proud little subway-mastering peacock.
Then as I open the door to the lab, I immediately am struck with a panicky thought as I think about last week's concert where pot smoke was wafting through the air, "What if I fail because of second-hand pot smoke," I think. "What if I ate poppy seeds without knowing it, what if that bee pollen I eat shows up as meth?"
A guy from inside opens the door for me and snaps me back to reality.
I sign in and a lab worker takes my ID and my paperwork and I wait for them to call me up as I choose the least filthy chair to sit in. The Quest waiting room is like the Dept. of Motor Vehicles and full of words that start with g like -- grungy, gray, grubby, and full of gloom.
My bladder is full to the brim and I'm hoping they call me in soon because I'm so full of pee that my eyeballs are floating.
I glance around the room and try to figure out who's a parolee, who's sick and who's just there for a pre-employment drug test like me. I decide that the girl with thick eyeliner and purple hair is a parolee and every time she moves I try to look for track marks on her arms. I give up on her and then try to determine which gang the guy to my right is in by studying his prison tats. He catches me staring and I give him a nervous smile so that he doesn't think I'm judging him.
Half hour goes by and I am going to pee my pants. I ask how long and they tell me that there are 3 people ahead of me. I eye them enviously as they're called up to the potty.
I cross my legs and wonder how I'm going to uncross them without peeing all over myself.
Another half hour goes by and they call me up, give me a cup and I lock up my belongings in a locker.
I get into the bathroom, slowly because I'm in pee-holding agony, mentally yelling at myself that, "You're 30 years old and you're NOT going to pee your pants!"
"No less than this line, don't flush the toilet and knock on the door when you're done," she instructs me. "Don't flush the toilet," she repeats.
I take the cup, run to the toilet and without even bothering for the door to close I let loose, overfilling the cup and then UNABLE TO STOP! peeing all over my hand, the toilet seat, the floor and my flip flops.
"Shit!" I say looking for paper towels, and there aren't any and there's a sign that says "Use sink outside of bathroom, DO NOT flush toilet, knock on door when finished."