This Time It Wasn't Me

This is a Shameless Employee story.

I was innocently waiting for the elevator doors to open. I get distracted by a cookie and a brownie that's for some meeting, and am drawn irresistibly to their sugary gravitational pull. The doors open behind me and an intern hurriedly steps out, but I only catch a glimpse via peripheral vision because my hand is reaching out and hovering--oh, the agony of indecision!--and I snatch the cookie and stuff it in my mouth in one smooth motion. Then I dart into the elevator, congratulating myself on my clean escape.

But fate has other plans. The intern had farted in the damn elevator, right before her speedy getaway. It's the type of fart that says, "I am a fart. I am nitrogen, and carbon dioxide, and methane, and hydrogen, and I am ruler of this confined space." Dammit. Now the next person who comes in here will think I did it. Having a face stuffed full of cookie does not help my case.

Guess who walks in next. THE OFFICE HOTTIE. The tall handsome drink of young man who always smiles at me when we walk past each other. I rush out and don't look back, weeping inside.

Obviously, I must now pay this forward by farting in the elevator and then stepping out nonchalantly. Or maybe this is karma for that time when I did just that, and a bunch of people from HR came in two seconds later?

Whatever. This time, it wasn't me.