i'm breaking my own no-work-talk rule this morning to vent to you about something because 1.) it is not about office politics. 2.) it is not at all company or industry related. 3.) it's not about a particular person 4.) i'm going to go insane and punch everyone in the face hole, otherwise known as mouth-parts, if i don't let some of this out.
when i went back to work i made the commitment to pump. it was my own choice and i didn't want to inconvenience anyone. i just wanted to get in, get the job done, and get back to work. zip zip. i'm in the minority here at the company (of pumping moms) so i also wanted to keep it to myself. it's private and it really shouldn't change anything that i dash off for ten minutes every few hours. i do it three-times less often than half the people here take smoke breaks, so what's the big deal?
and, though i have every legal right to ask for one, a "private" location was not provided so i opted for the bathroom, the one with the locking door and little table. it was a compromise, but everyone seemed happy with it. i got into a routine, the months cruised along, and all was well.
a few months ago product samples started showing up the bathroom, on my table. first catalogs. then samples. then spray bottles. then a big display tin of more samples. and i put up with it for a month or so, even as more and more crap kept showing up and there was less and less room for my pump and bottles. i know that the person responsible doesn't know that i use that table for lady situation; they probably think no one uses it– so i tolerated it longer than i probably should have.
finally, after the third time my hose got caught on some crap on the table and spilled my milk all over the floor i marched up to those in charge and drew a line in the sand. that shit had to GO. i use that table daily, and though the person who put it there didn't know it, it had made me cry several times over giant pools of milk on the floor.
and they said, "oh fine, fine! so reasonable! we'll move that stuff!"
a week went by. the stuff was still there.
finally, i emailed them again all, hey, remember me? i still need that crap to move. like, asap. or i will move it. you know, to the trash.
it didn't move, but we came to a compromise. they took a table from another bathroom and put that in there too. one table for me, one for all the stuff someone wants to hock in the private bathroom. so classy. but fine, great! back to normal! i was thrilled and life went on.
until this morning. when i walked into the bathroom and my table was GONE. someone came into the bathroom and carried it away. and took the flowers from my table and stacked them on top of the table overflowing with crap which, in turn, forced me to go down to the public stall bathroom and pump with my new dress pulled up over my shoulders.
i am furious. beyond furious. it-it- the f - it -flam - flames. FLAMES, on the side of my face, breathing-breathl- heaving breaths. HEAVING BREATH.
part of me feels like i am overreacting. but the other part of me is all up in arms. i have compromised to keep this quiet. to keep from inconveniencing anyone. i have not demanded what i have legal right to have because it seemed easier for all involved this way. I AM NOT ASKING MUCH. i just need ONE SMALL, NEARLY EMPTY TABLE, IN THE BATHROOM. is that really so FUCKING hard?! i didn't want to run around the office making a big stink about pumping and needing special things to pump but if they're going to force my hand, bring it on. i'll do what it takes.
after a telephone call which did not reflect how completely pissed i am the table is supposedly being moved back into the bathroom. or at least it better be by the next time i zip up there at noon 'o clock.