This seems to be a banner week for Shameless Employee.
So I was preparing to stealth-poop in the bathroom (I know you do it, tooooo!) and I hear someone walk in a couple of stalls away. I wait with the patience of a ninja for the other person to leave so I can, you know, go. Instead, she has explosive diarrhea. Great. I think she thought she was alone, judging by the hearty sounds and heavy breathing. She was going.
Being a civilized young lady, my only option was to pretend to not exist during my mystery coworker's time of rectal distress, but there were a couple of times during that two-minute Lower Body Horror Orchestra that I almost stomped out. Instead, I clenched and waited.
Finally, she left, and I hurried about my business. The last thing I needed was to be washing my hands and then have someone come in and associate me with the stench of someone else's impaired malabsorption of nutrients in the small intestine. Fortunately, this time I got lucky and no one saw me slink away.
At my desk, I went to jezebel.com to cheer myself up with angry, snarky feminist writings. What's the first thing I see on their site? An article about pooping at work. I was like, "Really? REALLY?"
I have two interpretations of the Bathroom Event. One, it's earned karma for me always being the first to reach the leftover sandwiches, and shamelessly squirreling away two or three at a time, for Boyfriend and/or for the next day's lunch. Or, this might be karma that goes toward something awesome that is office-related.
In any case, I leave you with a lesson: make as much noise as possible when in the stall, to forestall (hur hur hur) similar horrors. You're welcome.
*** Update, two days later ***
I was prepping my lunch in the kitchen when three ladies came in bearing pastries, yogurt, bagels (ugh), and other assorted goodies. I immediately took my pick and told my buddies in Accounting about the loot. I believe this now balances out my karma.
So I was preparing to stealth-poop in the bathroom (I know you do it, tooooo!) and I hear someone walk in a couple of stalls away. I wait with the patience of a ninja for the other person to leave so I can, you know, go. Instead, she has explosive diarrhea. Great. I think she thought she was alone, judging by the hearty sounds and heavy breathing. She was going.
Being a civilized young lady, my only option was to pretend to not exist during my mystery coworker's time of rectal distress, but there were a couple of times during that two-minute Lower Body Horror Orchestra that I almost stomped out. Instead, I clenched and waited.
Finally, she left, and I hurried about my business. The last thing I needed was to be washing my hands and then have someone come in and associate me with the stench of someone else's impaired malabsorption of nutrients in the small intestine. Fortunately, this time I got lucky and no one saw me slink away.
At my desk, I went to jezebel.com to cheer myself up with angry, snarky feminist writings. What's the first thing I see on their site? An article about pooping at work. I was like, "Really? REALLY?"
I have two interpretations of the Bathroom Event. One, it's earned karma for me always being the first to reach the leftover sandwiches, and shamelessly squirreling away two or three at a time, for Boyfriend and/or for the next day's lunch. Or, this might be karma that goes toward something awesome that is office-related.
In any case, I leave you with a lesson: make as much noise as possible when in the stall, to forestall (hur hur hur) similar horrors. You're welcome.
*** Update, two days later ***
I was prepping my lunch in the kitchen when three ladies came in bearing pastries, yogurt, bagels (ugh), and other assorted goodies. I immediately took my pick and told my buddies in Accounting about the loot. I believe this now balances out my karma.
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