The Toilet Vanishes

After a week away from work, I landed back at my desk a whole 15 minutes late for the start of the shift.  Beak down, I'd shuffled out of the house and into the car hoping a cunning excuse would pop into my mind to explain my tardiness.  Nope, nothing happened in my hay-fever stricken brain.  Simply, I had been refused an extra week's leave and didn't want to be wrenched away from tending to my mange-tout and tomato plants.  Tuning in to the general atmosphere, the hospital felt like another country.  Everyone was talking in hushed tones, cupboards were being cleared out and down at the end of our corridor, the engineers were fitting a combination lock to a door which hadn't been opened for years "for an inspection tomorrow, " they told me.  I had no idea who would want to inspect the old Daycare Christmas tree but it was keeping the three of them occupied.

My PC was on go-slow too.  I stared at the list of 150 irrelevant emails and spotted a couple of nuggets amongst the detritus.  The first was an edict from the Andrex Puppy saying I must complete my Health & Safety training module on line before tomorrow's inspection.  These are orders and anyone failing to comply will be spoken to, thus explaining why every available PC in the place was occupied by a pale, perspiring colleague who didn't have any of the answers.  I finished my module in under the 30 minute record and ploughed on with the second priority task of ordering my new uniform, the deadline having passed while I was on holiday.

Our stores department had sample uniforms to try and when I asked for a set to fit my Raven's shape, they declined.  My old uniform is a UK size 12, with a bit of give in the middle for a jacket potato or bag of chips if the mood takes me so I thought it would be a good idea to order the same again.  The chunky lad who runs stores gave me a stern look.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you."
"I'm the same size as the day I started here."  He had the decency not to look me up and down before answering.
"Maybe ... but the new uniforms aren't."
"So can I try a size fourteen then?"
"No.  We haven't got any of them.  Will size six do?"
"Don't be silly ... my arm's bigger than a size six."  I had seen the minuscule jacket modelled by another Ward Clerk, and she'd needed oxygen after her breathing became restricted trying to get it off.  I had started to feel nostalgic for the days when a Marks & Spencer size 12 standard garment could be picked up and bought, without trying it on, secure in the knowledge that it would fit perfectly.  Although I exclude bras due to their tendency to have built-in jiggle room.  Chunky was searching his cupboard for something suitable for me to try and waved a bag in my direction.
"Have you seen the dress?"  Yes I had and wouldn't be having one owing to its overall density of fabric and when worn, I felt I could bend light around my body.  I'm sure it had been engineered to give an air of reliability and solidness, but on my frame it also shouted 'butch'.

After another hour wasted as I searched out the appropriate sizes to try from other departments, I returned to the office where I'd started, only to find a keycode lock on the door and no sign of an engineer to give me the code.  I couldn't ring them because my phone was behind a locked door so trouped up to their office only to be met with a wall of silence.  I felt an explanation would help.
"I need to get my lunch and my handbag and get to the Ward before I'm late."  My bleating had no effect whatsoever.
"Should have thought about that before you left the office unsecured."
"I did think about it but had to order my uniform."  With the speed of a melting glacier, he wrote our code on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
"You can't tell anyone else this number."
"Not even the other four secretaries who work there when I'm not in?"
"No.  They'll have to come and get it too."
"And the twenty or so consultants who nip in throughout the week ... can they have the code?"
"No.  That wouldn't be secure, would it?"  I was going to be a very long seven days for me, I could feel it in my water.

The whole palaver of running around after other people meant I had no time to enjoy my sweaty sandwiches or tasty slab of banana loaf as I didn't know the keycode to open the staff fridge either.  And when I finally arrived on the Ward for part two of my shift, I was overtaken by the necessity for a comfort stop and headed for the usual door marked 'Ladies".  Except there was nothing in the room that had once been our primping area; they'd taken the basin, the bins, and the gits had even removed the toilet leaving a hole in the floor.  I've used Italian ski toilets before but they were just a hole carved in the ice over a gully, allowing skiers to do the necessary whilst on the piste.  This was something else.  The departing Ward Clerk patted me on the back and pointed me towards the locker room.
"You'll have to use the nurses' toilets from now on."
"Great but in three years I've never been given the keycode or a locker in there so what do I do?"
"I can't tell you because of the inspection tomorrow."  I could tell she was enjoying this except I wasn't going to be fobbed so easily.
"I'll have to go downstairs then ... which will make you late again and you'll get another telling off."  You know, it's surprising what unlocks doors in the face of abject stupidity.

Tip of the Beak:  I slept really well that night, despite the extreme humidity, because I was secure in the knowledge that I'd been secured out of my own job.  I'll be carrying a portaloo from now on.

Raven