Even though there are quite a few hoops to jump through before starting a new job, I’ve never gotten used to peeing in a cup as part of this process.
Sure, the company I’ll be working for needs to know I’m not a crackhead, but I just wish there was a less awkward way to go about it. Whenever I’m handing the tester my cup of urine, I always feel like I should apologize or try my hand at small talk to break the mood. Maybe something like, “Don’t spill” or “It’s nice and fresh just like nature intended.” You know, anything to distract from what’s going on.
And what thoughts are swirling in the person’s mind as they accept my cup of warm liquid waste? Is this really the job they signed up for, or is it just a small part of their regular duties? Whenever they know someone is there for a drug test, do they cringe a little inside? There is no way I could keep my face impassive while I transferred someone’s piss into little tubes scheduled for send off to some lab. I actually commend the people assigned this task, because they really do make it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the world. A person rains gold in a cup, hands it to them, and they take care of the rest. Nothing odd about that at all.
I usually feel like a criminal during the whole operation even though I have nothing worry about… unless they start asking strategic questions about my teenage years. But really, there is just something strange about someone waiting outside the bathroom while I’m inside squatting over a toilet holding a cup. It does a really good job of making me feel dirty, and outside of the bedroom, that’s not cool.
So yeah, I can get down with gay marriage and even the people that like to suffocate themselves before orgasm. But having someone thank me for my steaming cup of fresh piss is weird.
Dear Adulthood,
Hi. My name is Jillian. We met briefly when I turned 18, but haven’t had much contact since. I’ve heard a lot about you, and not all of it good. Some people say you suck the fun out of everything and require people to be serious all the time, but I’m sure that’s just gossip. Surely you can’t be all bad. I mean it’s because of you I got to vote and buy my first pack of cigarettes. And later, when I turned 21, I’m told it’s you that made it OK for me to finally buy alcohol. This was good because I was tired of getting people to buy booze for me. So thanks for that.
The rest of my letter...
When it comes to war, everyone must choose a side. No, you can’t sit on the fence and never commit to anything. People who do that are called PUSSIES. And the only thing a PUSSY is good for is getting fucked.
Right now, a battle of epic proportions is being waged. Sooner or later a side will emerge victorious with enough power to affect society as a whole. This post is your opportunity to learn the important details and choose where you stand. Lines need to be drawn, facts need telling, and the pretending has to stop. Choose wisely whatever side you rally with. The men and women who will fight alongside you are putting their lives in your hands, it’s only fair you give them your utmost support and unshakable commitment.
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*The following is a rant long overdue. It’s devoid of humor and my usual lightheartedness, but for various reasons it needs to be said.*
I just want to be myself.
Whatever happened to accepting people just the way they are?
My mom was once described as the kind of person who made people feel instantly comfortable. Sure, she had her views on things, but she didn’t judge people. To this day, I feel I will never meet another soul like her (my husband being an obvious exception). It was her who allowed me to be myself, to voice my opinions, to offer my input, and to make my own decisions. While some parents chose to order for their kids in a restaurant, my mom always asked me what I wanted. Instead of just planning an outing, she always took my suggestions under advisement. She let me know early on what I had to say was important, and that I was worth listening to.
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