On December 25th (baby #2s's official due-date!) my work is moving to a new building on campus. One dedicated solely to alumni relations, communication & development. With an alumni welcome center, space for alumni to rest and read in, surf the internet, and hold events. It's even going to be a green building. So on the surface, that all sounds great, right?
Only one problem - we're going to be in f*cking cubicles. Every single one of us. Ugh.
Adding insult to injury, the bathrooms on each floor will be single-stall, gender neutral. And so help me g*d, if any of my male colleagues head off to use those bathrooms with a newspaper tucked under their arm, there will be hell to pay! They can go down to the first floor and use the gendered public bathroom, thank you very much.
But today - today's tidbit of information is the piece de la resistance. When I approached HR with a question of where was I supposed to pump (you know, three times a day, 20-60 minutes per session depending upon set up and break down of the equipment, 5 days a week for three f*cking months - only as estimated 3600 to 10800 minutes of my life, aka 60 to 180 HOURS OF TIME) they assured me blithly - oh, no problem! Use a conference room!
Only, today I learned that ever SINGLE F*CKING conference room is windowed and "open" meaning anyone can look in. WTF?
Apparently my choices are going to be:
1) balance on the toilet seat and yell at people that pound on the door asking me to hurry up, or
2) take at least three hours out of my day by walking to and from the only "lactation" room on campus that is several blocks away (and get fired for working 25 hours a week, nice), or
3) balance on the toilet seat of the gender-specific public bathroom on the first floor and hope that too much aerosolized crap doesn't float through the air and somehow get into the breast milk I am agonizingly pumping. Gross.
And people wonder why working mothers have a rough time when they come back to work. And I LIKE working!
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