I knew it was serious, because right after I opened the office door this morning, even before I could turn on the lights, one of my female co-workers was in my office with a work request for me to put in.
"I hate to spring on you first thing in the morning, but could you call into building services about the last stall in the ladies room?"
She departed quickly.
Approximately 45 minutes later, our floor's normal daytime custodian was in my office. She was gathering the trash and had noticed the disturbance in the ladies room.
"Do they want me to clean that up, or are they going to send someone else?"
Two phone calls later, it was clear: Janelle would be our Great American Hero this morning. She departed briefly to survey the crime scene for a second assessment. Back in my office:
"That's just nasty. I'm going to need some bleach -- and what should I use to clean it up? How do you just miss?"
10 minutes of discussion followed. A male graduate student had arrived at my desk during this discussion. He added to our collective joking, the only way we could cope with the situation. Josh mentioned that we could determine the exact location of the perpetrator from the splatter. We might gather DNA evidence.
As the description of the violence seemed ever more fantastical, Josh volunteered to witness the crime scene. He reported back with the following snapshot:
Janelle ended up clearing the scene. She received a hug and a promise of a gift for her efforts.
The offender remains at large.