Dry Humping The Drywall

At the end of my break at work, I went to use the facilities. When I attempted to do up my pants, the bar on the ‘hook and bar’ closure came off. Fantastic.

The bar looks like a whacked out staple so I think, Okay, if I can staple it back into the fabric, I should be good to go. I manage to get the staple into the fabric but with two years worth of strain (read: a little extra baggage) the prongs have pulled themselves nearly straight. Ok, no problem, I think. I just need to flatten them. Using the wall I press the staple back into an almost staple shape (so that I can still get the staple stapled into the fabric), stick the staple into the fabric and again attempt to do up my pants.
FLING
There goes the staple, on the floor. Great.
Now, you have to understand that seeing the actual staple in my pants is difficult considering the size of The Girls. For some reason I didn’t think to sit down, no. Hindsight is filled with assholes.

I digress.

I flatten the staple a little bit more and staple it into the fabric again. I was about to do up my pants and the staple just falls to the floor without my even touching it.
I have to admit, this is where I started to panic a little. I have 6 hours left in my shift and I don’t have pants that will stay “done up”. I don’t even have a spare pair of pants in my locker (though I have two extra shirts, two extra ties and an extra set of epaulettes). I then picture myself calling the head office and asking if the dude on shift can get into the uniform room and having to explain why and who I am. I could name drop (do you know who my husband is??) but then my husband would wonder what kind of a moron he married (one without secure pants). Opting not to be the butt of some joke (ha!), I decide to attempt a few more times to put the staple in the fabric and hope for the best, without any success at all.

Clearly, I think, the prongs need to be flattened a little more AFTER it’s been stapled to the fabric. Ok, I have a plan. I push the staple into the fabric and then try pushing the staple flat with my thumb and fingers. With very little success, I might add. I just don’t have the proper pressure or strength that’s required. I need something big and flat and strong. The wall! I put the staple into the fabric again (I’m surprised there’s any fabric left, to be honest) and, getting up close and personal with the wall (how YOU doin!), I proceed to ‘flatten’ the staple. Catching myself in the mirror, I realize it look like I’m humping the wall.

If I could’ve facepalmed myself I would’ve but they were too busy assisting in my dry humping a plaster/cement wall.

I grab my radio and tell the guy who’s sitting at my desk that he can go, I’ll only be another minute, which sounds quite perverse. I worry I’ll be longer than a minute but I didn’t want to explain to him what was going on, least of all over the radio.

With my forehead on the wall, feeling defeated, I decide to pull the staple out completely, move it over a few millimeters and attempt to flatten the staple again/hump the wall. Finally it flattens and I do up my pants.

There is no moral to this story. Just me praying my pants will make it through the last hour of my shift.

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