Chances are, it’s the best and probably only good part of the entire day: the morning dump. It’s the stuff dreams are made of — the dreams that you will be getting paid to move your bowels. Sometimes, the experience is truly as great as advertised. However, more often than not, some dickhead ruins it with a similar bathroom schedule to yours. It’s the absolute worst. Here are the twelve stages of grief of attempting to take the optimal office dump and the pertaining internal dialogues.
1. Open bathroom door. Realize bathroom is completely empty.
“Awesome.” You take a deep breath, satisfied that you have the bathroom all to yourself. You immediately regret this decision because the bathroom perpetually smells like a third-world landfill.
2. Without hesitation, you walk directly to the handicap stall. So far, so good.
“This is going incredibly smoothly. Not like yesterday when that weird son of a bitch took the stall next to me and did his best Challenger launch and aftermath impression. That was brutal.”
3. Put toilet seat cover down, plus the obligatory 2 strips of toilet paper on the sides where the seat cover doesn’t quite do its damn job. Hold this unstable apparatus carefully in place while you situate yourself.
“Seriously, what the hell? Can Facilities not the find the right size seat covers? That’s like their only job. Idiots.”
4. De-pants and have a seat.
“Awesome. We’re gonna be here far longer than necessary. I’ve been saving Words with Friends games all morning for the occasion. Hell, I might even ride this porcelain steed all the way to lunch. That’s how good I feel right now.”
5. Bathroom door opens. Footsteps.
“Okay, no big deal. He’s probably just taking a piss. Let’s have a temporary ceasefire back there while we wait for him to leave and then I can get back to focusing on the dump at hand.”
6. Realization that this bastard is, in fact, here for the Ol’ Number Two.
“Oh, damn it. Fine. There just better be at least one stall between us. Don’t be that guy. Don’t ever be that guy.”
7. This dump-ruiner peers into the first 2 stalls, passing right on by them, and walks into the one next to you.
“You rat, barbarian piece of shit. What kind of psycho takes the stall next to the only occupied one in the whole bathroom? Well, I guess the first stall did have a pretty substantial amount of piss all over the seat. And if we’re being fair, there was a damn Redwood floating in the second stall. Okay, I would’ve done the same thing, but I hate you.”
8. The guy sits down in the stall next to you. You see his idiot Doc Martin rip-offs from Shoe Carnival circa 1998. It’s Derek from IT – he lives on McDonald’s, Arby’s, and Monsters and is among the greasiest human beings in existence. Your blood pressure spikes and your mind is no longer focused in the dump zone.
“Oh, fuck me sideways. Of all people, it has to be Derek? Really? That guy averages 4 Monsters a day. Anything coming out of him has to be radioactive.”
9. Derek apparently doesn’t share your apprehension to close-proximity dumpers and lets those McNuggets fly at will. It sounds like you would expect it to sound, given your knowledge of his diet.
“Jesus, this is disgusting. I actually feel bad for Derek. That just sounds unhealthy. Maybe I should start asking him to lunch so he can experience food that doesn’t go directly from deep fryer to toilet. Plus, he doesn’t rat me out for all the internet surfing and questionable NSFW sites I visit. Derek actually seems like a pretty good dude.”
10. Derek appears to have concluded his heinous business. He leaves the stall without flushing.
“Never mind; fuck Derek. Enjoy diabetes, asshole.”
11. The bathroom is finally empty again.
“Alright, an hour ’til lunch. I might even go to sleep. Better set the alarm just in case.”
12. Bathroom door opens. The cycle begins to repeat itself. You’ve had enough. You cinch up the pants and head back to your desk defeated and angry. Day ruined.
“God damn it.”