How I Beat Urine Alcohol Testing

Published: 26th February 2008
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I watched Jenny pace the floor bursting to deliver this performance she had obviously rehearsed at least a hundred times. She was like a hunter stalking her prey, and despite all my efforts to elude her, we now stood face to face - the final confrontation had come. All I could do was wait for her to brandish her weapon: Urine alcohol testing. Urine alcohol testing was my one vulnerability. How Jenny could know, I don't know, but she must.



This epic began with what I thought was an innocent Friday night movie at the house of my friend, Christian. It ended as a fight for my future against the plans of false comrades and cunning foes and the cold judgment of urine alcohol testing.



I was a sober young man of 16. I confirmed that the movie was PG and that an adult would be present. Christian had invited others as well. There was popcorn and root beer, and Nancy brought cookie dough she had made. She assured us that she had used egg substitutes, but this was a red herring for the true poison. Little did I suspect that this night would pit me against the horrors of urine alcohol testing.



Twenty minutes into Toy Story, everything was fine. I was enjoying the company, the movie, and the delicious refreshments. Urine alcohol testing was the farthest thing from my mind. Then Christian made an astute observation.



"This cookie dough has a strong taste of vanilla," he said.

"Yes," Nancy replied. "I put extra vanilla in to make it taste better."

"You know vanilla is about 80% alcohol, right?" Christian interrogate.

"Are you serious?" She innocently asked.



But her jig was up. How could a woman of 16 so adept at cooking make a mistake like that. This was no mistake. About that time I noticed I was feeling woozy. I stood up slowly and looked at my watch.



"I just remembered I have to get up early to help my dad," I said.

Everyone protested, but I couldn't be swayed. I had been betrayed by someone I thought was my friend. Nancy, that loathsome siren, knew exactly how to draw me in, but why? It never occurred to me that Nancy might have urine alcohol testing on her mind.



Christian offered to drive me home, but how could I trust him to drive. He had eaten as much cookie dough as I had. So I walked the five miles back to my home.

That weekend I stayed away from anything that contained the least bit of alcohol. I couldn't let myself become addicted. It wasn't until work the next Monday that I learned this ordeal would culminate in urine alcohol testing.



I worked at a call center doing customer support for a cable service. I had only been at the job for a week, but I had already become adept at it. The job wasn't bad, except my supervisor, Jenny, liked to torture the new people. She always threatened us by saying things like, "If you can't do the job there are five others waiting outside for your seat."



Toward the end of the day that Monday another new caller named Rich told me he had overheard a conversation between Jenny and another supervisor.



"They're going to give us a surprise drug test tomorrow," he said. "I heard them talking about it just now."



Normally, this news wouldn't bother me. But because of the events of the previous weekend, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The woozy feeling I had experienced at Christian's house was coming back. Would there be urine alcohol testing? Could there still alcohol in my system?



"No big deal," I said, "I don't have anything to worry about."



I could feel myself starting to sweat. If my parents found out I had been at a party with alcohol they would never trust me again.



I spent that night studying how I might beat urine alcohol testing. I found out urine alcohol testing wasn't the only way they could do it.



The most advanced way would be to use hair. Alcohol hair testing allowed them to look back months. This was easy to overcome. I just shaved my entire body.



What about blood alcohol testing? If they can't take my blood, they can't test me. That Russian boy who couldn't stop bleeding - what was that disease called?



Hemo.......hemofiii.....hemafra......hemophilia!



I could tell them I had hemophilia.



I feared the last option the most. Urine alcohol testing. I couldn't just not go. But maybe I could dilute it enough to fool the urine alcohol testing equipment. It wasn't perfect, but it might give me a chance. I spent the rest of the night drinking water and going to the bathroom. I went six or seven times.



The next day I was nervous but confident. I was safe from alcohol hair testing and blood alcohol testing. But I wasn't sure about urine alcohol testing.



I had to play it cool and show them they had nothing on me. If I could win the war by attrition, maybe it wouldn't come to urine alcohol testing.



I had my story all ready to go when my co-workers saw my shaved body.



"Yesterday, the doctor told me I might have ...," what was that called?!

"... homophobia. Fleas could be fatal, so I shaved my body."



So far so good. Jenny was learning I was no ordinary high school kid. I drank water whenever she was watching just to let her know I was ready for urine alcohol testing too.



That afternoon Jenny came in and told everyone to stop what we were doing.



"I have a surprise for all of you," she said, pacing. She had been biding her time. The urine alcohol testing game was going to be played out to the bitter end. All I could do was submit to the urine alcohol testing with dignity and let God do the rest.



Jenny paused, enjoying our discomfort.



"You've been here long enough to get the job down," she continued. "The honeymoon is over. You losers are going to start making outbound calls today. Let's just call this an acid test to see if you can really do this job."



I had won!



Jenny had seen I could not be intimidated by simple urine alcohol testing. I stared her down and she backed away.



I look back at this experience as a trial by fire. It seemed that earth and hell had combined against me to ruin my reputation and lead me into evil paths. I still don't know how Nancy and Jenny had executed such a devilish plan. But the innocence of my youth was gone. I was no longer a kid eating raw cookie dough.



I tasted the sweet nectar of alcohol and I'm happy to say I have resisted addiction. I faced my enem

About the author:

Mat Moniker is a writer for Innuity.com and a supporter of advanced drug testing research. Learn more about urine alcohol testing at trimegalabs.co.uk


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