Dear LPG, 

Having read a recent post in your pages (►►►), I completely understand why XX felt the need to remain as anonymous as the initials she used for her message indicated, but I have a similar one which her braveness has inspired me to tell.  

Back in the day I used to work for a fire and burglar alarm company in the centre of London.  This was arguably so long ago that most private houses did not have them as readily as they do now, but all shops, great or small, needed one of each for insurance purposes.  This was my job in the late 1960s when I was a lot younger.  I am talking about the days when commodities such as ‘do it yourself, over the counter’ alarm systems that come with your video front doorbell had not been invented, and the fire alarms and smoke alarms we have now were much more complicated bits of equipment than the little round things that we stick to the ceiling.  

I was one of two receptionists and our office was a place where clients would come to see exactly how the components of such systems worked.  In fact, the demonstration room (as it was called) adjoined the one that I worked in and you would think that all was well. 

There was one down-side to working there though.  As a receptionist I picked up quite a bit of the jargon that went with having an alarm system.  I knew what a contact and motion sensor was and back in those days there were a few cameras involved although they were not on all the time.  I am guessing that any reader might think that relatively impressive but I have to admit that knowing the names of the components did not go hand in hand with knowing what they all did.  The walls of that room were decorated with countless gadgets that looked very technical and flashy.   

Reception was strategically placed opposite the waiting area so that we had full view of this demonstration room and the company’s expert representatives did a lot of showing clients around.  

When we had nothing better to do we receptionists would be able to watch as the bits of equipment lit up little coloured lights when the sensors detected the movement of our visitors and it was one way of passing some of those less busy periods.  We were also treated to regular blasts of the audio alarm sounds and, although the volume was somewhat watered down, they were a challenge for our ears at times.  

Beyond that room was the ladies which, unlike the convenience that XX described, left a relatively pleasant experience when visited, but for all that, those lights would flash as you passed them on the way in and out of the loo and I was always left wondering just what could be seen when we visited.  Was there a hidden camera beyond the door that separated the ladies from the demonstration room?  Could the system count the amount of visits you made each day or perhaps how long each of your visits were? 

As a result, I learned to wait until lunch hour and find the loo in the Wimpy Bar where I often went for dinner if I really needed to go, and my home cummings were similar to the ones XX describes although I never actually experienced a key incident like the one she mentioned.   

I have to say that also, unlike XX, I did a lot of conscientious training to make sure that my trips to the loo were not detected during my working hours and I have relied on them ever since; especially now that my pelvic floor muscles are older.  

All this got me looking for what the internet says about such bodily-function training and was surprised by the similarity between my self-taught training and my online findings.  I found a few that might come in handy even now, whatever the reason you need to train yourself to wait a while, and hope they are helpful.  


BD, Beckenham 

 

BD shares some online solutions that she may have thought of first…

 

 

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