An open letter to the lady who gave me my drug test
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Dear drug test lady,
I knew you had be coming for weeks. I had you on my calendar like my calendar had chinese food stains on it. You were for a job and the job was for me. Honestly, I had not done a drug in my life but I was nervous. Not because of the testing, but because of the entire process. The thought of forking over a cup of lukewarm urine to a complete stranger, only for her to smile and thank me for donating my excrement. It was a cold day the morning of my drug test. I entered the barren center and gave my name. After waiting for ten minutes, I was escorted by you, drug test lady, to the back room where I sat in a chair. I had been out drinking the night before (not a great idea for a drug test) and my intestines were f*ed up eight ways from Sunday. Drug test lady, you escorted me to the cubicle of a bathroom where I was supposedly going to give a urine sample. Closed the door and locked it. Stood there for about 30 seconds with you hovering at the door (I could hear you capping other piss bottles). Nothing. Little bit of a jiggle...nothing. Close to having a vein in my forehead pop...nothing. Then it hit. Commonly known as a turtle head or halfway to prairie dogville, I knew that my urine sample was lonely and he, indeed, needed a travelling partner: that of a stool sample. Drug test lady, I knew that it wasn't exactly what you requested but the only way number one was coming was if he picked up the lonely hitchhiker, number two. In turn, I threw down the pants and provided both samples. Once finished, I cleaned myself up, turned around, and reached for the lever to flush. My eyes bulged out of my head when I read the sign "DO NOT FLUSH TOILET, IF YOU DO, YOUR SAMPLE WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED." Flash back to the point where I said I had been drinking last night. Not only did I crap in the toilet that you can't flush, it turned out to be the He Man of smell and size. Then, a knock on the door. "If you're having trouble, you'll have to come out..." Oh shit, I thought (no pun intended). Fifteen seconds later, with my head hanging in shame, I exited the cubicle with five ounces of pure urine. To my lament, we stood one foot away from the room with the floating, unexpected, and surely unwanted stool sample. Drug test lady, I knew you could smell it. I could smell it and while usually proud of my accomplishments in the bathroom, even this made me gag. But, in all your kindness, you stood there taping up my pee, wafting in my putrid smell, and did nothing but smile. Drug test lady, I did not mean to desecrate your bathroom. God bless you for not eluding to the foul smelling odor I produced and again, I apologize for what you found after I left the building.