It was really lovely. Just a nice way to start the day. Sort of.
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I have been fortunate enough in the past two years to have three jobs, all with showers, making the two-wheeled trek to work possible. In fact, a shower is now on my list of must-have benefits. Health insurance? Check. Vacation days? Check. Shower? Yes, sir!
In fact, it was actually one of the last questions I asked before accepting my current job. (Much as it had been at my last place of employment.) "We have one," said my soon-to-be-new-boss hesitatingly. "It's been here about 20 years and I'm not sure anyone has ever used it," he added.
"And it's in the men's bathroom."
Fast forward to last week. With high hopes that the weather would finally cooperate, I determined that it was time to check the shower.
Confidently, I marched into the men's room after 5 p.m. when most everyone was gone. I twisted the faucet and, voila ...
Water! I was good to go.
Or so I thought.
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This morning, I stuffed my backpack full. I pedaled as fast as I could. I locked my bike up outside and I headed toward the men's room.
It's a little unnerving to disrobe in the men's room, I gotta admit. What if the lock doesn't work? Not the way I want to address my still-not-"old"-friends coworkers. But disrobe I did, stepped into my flip flops (it's still the men's room and everyone knows athlete's foot lives in places like this), and fired up the shower.
Fired up is not exactly accurate. Fire would imply warmth. And this, my friends, was a cold shower. A very cold shower. As in, no hot water. None. Zip. Nada. Bupkis.
I guess I should have tested the temperature when I tested the existence of water.
Needless to say, my shower didn't take long.
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