It's Better To Be Pissed

It's Better To Be Pissed Off Than Pissed On

I was yanked out of my bed by sheer responsibility. I didn't want to get up, I didn't want to take a shower, much less actually put on make-up AND do something with my hair. But, I did because I absolutely had to.
UTMB (University of Texas Medical Branch) has sold this Worksteps program to companies and city governments. Before you go to work, you have to go there and do a series of exercises tailored to the job if your employer is a client.
Ok, as an IT person, I'll probably have to lift a computer or crawl under a table and fuck with some cables, I get that. I figured I would go lift a couple of heavy boxes, pass the test and leave, right?
Nuh uh.
I got there and they put me through the fucking WRINGER. There is a reason I don't exercise...I'm fat and lazy!
I start off by doing a step exercise to test my cardiovascular system. I had to step up on a little stool, one foot at a time and then step down, one foot at a time; like step aerobics. The other twist to this is you have to do it all to the beat of this evil metronome. About 10 seconds into this, I knew I was in trouble. I tried to pretend to breathe normally but after a minute went by, I knew pretending was impossible. I just prayed to God I wouldn't wheeze and fall on the floor writhing in agony.
Thankfully, right before I died, the timer buzzed.
But, the nightmare wasn't over. I had to lift a box with 80 lb weights in it...several times. Then I had to set up a 50 lb table, climb a ladder 6 times, squat for 2 minutes, have my arm strength and back strength tested and then some woman probed my spine, neck, head, and listened to my joints.
The only bright spot of the day was when the therapist guy that was working with me went to show me how to lift the 80 lb box correctly, accidentally hit himself in the nads with the corner of the box.
I tried hard not to laugh and he tried even harder not to cry. It was a tense moment for the both of us.
After his face returned to a normal color, we continued. He deserved it for the torture he was putting me through. Fucker

One would think my pain and humiliation would be over after the Worksteps fiasco, but no. I had to then go pee in a cup. Oh yes, my prospective employers are worried that not only will I be an out of shape slob, but that I'm also on some kind of mind-altering drugs. I wish.

Without getting too disgusting...Can I just say that women are not meant to pee in cups and it seems like the cups just keep getting smaller. What the hell is up with that? Why would they give us a fucking thimble??
I watched the woman ahead of me today leave the bathroom with her specimen and she was holding it away from her body like it was toxic. She sat it down on the counter next to the "urine tech" and it left a ring. A. Pee. Ring.
I wanted to vomit.
Then it was my turn. I realized why her cup was dripping. There are no towels or a sink in the bathroom. If you piss all over your hands and the cup, oh well, you have to walk out with urine covered hands.
There was a sink located outside of the bathroom and I scrubbed like I've never scrubbed before. I felt like coming home and reenacting a scene from Silkwood, when Meryl Streep's character was contaminated and they rushed her into a haz-mat shower and scrubbed her skin raw.

Actually, I came home, threw myself onto the floor and sobbed. Slowly, I rose up from the carpet, raised my fist to the sky and declared, "As God as my witness, I'll never piss in a cup again."

Posted by De at November 21, 2003 11:05 PM