Topping up The Condom Jar

One of the privileges I experienced working as a janitor was the free access I had to the ladies wash-room. I could walk in at any time in my official capacity as the cleaner. Our office had several wash-rooms set aside specifically for our lady colleagues – one in each wing. The ladies toilets were identical to the gent’s toilets apart from the presence of the discreet sanitary disposal units. There was one of the toilets though, which had an extra unique feature. It had a large clear glass jar in one corner on the floor. It looked like the kind of jar that is normally used to store cookies. This jar however, did not contain cookies. It had something more important than cookies. It was full of condoms – At least it was when I started working there as a janitor.

The condom jar became a bench mark for cleanliness in the office. My supervisor would pick it up and scrutinize it while looking for any signs of dust or stains. She would seemingly ignore the contents, much to my disappointment. I was so curious about that jar. It portended so many unanswered questions like; who came up with the ingenious idea? Or who brought the jar and stocked it up? And who among my colleagues were the beneficiaries of the contents? These were the questions that passed through my mind every morning as I held it against the light and carefully wiped it clean. During my first few weeks of work at that office, I concluded that nobody picked condoms from the jar. I continued with my daily ritual of cleaning and observing the jar and its contents. After some time I noticed something very strange. The level of condoms in the jar was going down slowly but very surely.

From the day I discovered that the condoms were actually being used up, I couldn't help but view the ladies in our office differently. Every time I saw one walk into the wash-room, I would wonder whether she was going to answer a call of nature or of the hormones. It’s painful that I will never know. At least I now know why many ladies carried their handbags to the wash-room and left with a smile.

Our office had an interesting culture. When people reported to the office in the morning, they would head straight to the kitchen to get their tea and bread (we used to “convert” one packet of milk into bread but it would still appear as milk in the books of accounts). Since almost everyone would be in the kitchen at the same time, some informal discussions would take place and it was often said that the most important decisions were made there. The office chatterboxes would have a field day in the kitchen and their discussion group was eventually christened ‘The Kitchen Cabinet’.   

It was during one kitchen cabinet session that I jokingly talked about the condom jar in the ladies wash room and the ‘dangerously’ low level it had reached. Many members of the kitchen cabinet were in senior management and I hoped that one of them would use his ‘influence’ to get us replenishment – hopefully for free. When I talked about the jar, I thought it would be news to the men. I was surprised to hear almost every man in the kitchen cabinet describe that jar in impeccable detail. I didn't expect them to have seen it. I was the only man allowed in the ladies wash-room so I wondered how and when they had not only seen it, but also scrutinized it closely.

Needless to say, that kitchen cabinet session ended in typical chauvinistic laughter, and no solution was arrived at to address the dwindling supply of an apparently essential commodity. I never got to satisfy my curiosity as to who among our modest colleagues were the consumers of the commodity – maybe it was the ‘unusually’ informed male members of the kitchen cabinet, or both men and women. Anyhow, all the condoms got used up and eventually even the jar disappeared. I guess one of the ladies thought it would make a nice cookie jar for her children.