The Urine Test

As part of the application process for my new job, I was required to go for a pre-employment drug screening. It’s kind of intrusive and in principle, I disapprove, but when it comes down to it, I just go ahead and do it with out voicing complaint.

So, yesterday, after the offer was made, I figured I would just go directly over to the occupational medicine clinic and get it over with. I kind of had to pee and since it was so close, what the heck. No appointment necessary! How convenient.

Well, for starters, I (of course) had to wait about 45 minutes before being called, so by the time my name was called, my bladder was about to burst.

Then, there was the ambiance in the waiting room. My, my, what an assortment of characters! I found myself sitting amongst a group of truckers and laborers who were there for various reasons. Imagine 6 or so, Beavis and Butthead clones in their 30’s.

Worker 1: Man, I think I got a fuckin’ hernia, or somethin’. It feels like one-na my nuts exploded.

Worker 2: He,he,he. When I hadda’ hernia, it felt like I had three nuts. He,he,he.

Workers 1 – 6: He, he, he, he.

Worker 3: Piss tests are stupid, man.

Workers 1 – 6: He, he, he, he.

Etc.

I considered changing seats, but looked about the room at my alternatives. There was a middle-aged, overweight salesman-looking type, who’s collar was too tight and was red in the face and kind of breathing a little too heavily. I didn’t want to sit too close to that one. I might have to give him CPR. No thanks!

Then there was a 20-something woman, her toddler and her friend, who obviously failed a previous drug screening and was angry about having to do it again. This was all abundantly clear from her confrontation with the receptionist upon her arrival. No, I thought. I was better off with the hernia gang and chose to stay put. I’m not a precious little Bay Area snow flake who’s never heard the F*-word before.

Then, my name was called. Things went from bad to worse instantly. Some surly, nurse’s assistant handed me the cup and told me to fill it to the designated line and pointed to the room. The room was filthy! The dirty toilet seat was up and there was mud and urine all over the floor. Aaagh! I ended up peeing in my pumps, on my skirt and on the floor, and quite frankly I don’t give a damn! I wasn’t getting one inch closer to that toilet. I handed the woman the dripping container and went home and cleaned up thoroughly.

My point is NOT to make fun of blue collar East Coasters, but simply to air my grievances about this particular occupational medicine facility.

Disgusting.