The persistent talk that my department would be transferring to a new building had become more and more frequent these days. Mid-summer last year, they said we’ll be transferring by July, then by September, then by November then December 2007. Care to check your calendars what date is today already!?

When I joined the company, I was surprised that the department where I belong is separated from the main office, a whole 20 minutes walking distance away from it. Just imagine I have to rely on the office boy to get some leave papers/reimbursement documents etc. sent to the HR at the main office. I would always pray he’ll not stumble along the way and deliver the paper to the persons concerned. If he is not available, I have to walk, even in summer.

The other employees had talked about how big and spacious the new office is, that we’ll have new comfortable sofas and possibly, a good view from above. They had been dissecting the layout plan and inserted their names to their joy. However, I have only one thing to look forward to when we transfer: the freedom to go to the toilet and assured that I’d be alive afterwards!

*The toilet at the new building has separate rooms for women and gents.*

Nasty truth be told, I am sharing a toilet with 18 other men. Lucky if I go there first thing in the morning but after all of them have their fill of the highly diuretic red tea, the toilet is World War II revisited. I have declined the offer of tea twice a day, to the insult of the office boy because I could not bear to drink tea and be merry and later regret it when my need arises.

Armed with hand sanitizer that claims to kill 99.9% of germs without water, I go there holding my breath, fold my trousers because the floor is too wet, splatter sanitizer on the seat, breathe with a thick handkerchief pressed against my nose, wipe the seat with dry tissue, unbutton and do my stuff. I have practiced holding my breath too much that I am pretty sure someday I’d be able to scuba dive without a tank.