It’s 9:30 a.m. and I’ve just finished my first cup of joe. Right about now would be the time I venture out back to the bathroom for 4-6 minutes’ worth of relief as I scroll through twitter or run through some snap stories. But I can’t. Because I just received a rather high-priority email from my boss.
All – I was just informed that they have shut off water to the office park. They are working to mitigate the issue and we will supply an update once one has been provided. In the meantime, bathrooms needs will have to be met offsite.
Ummmm, excuse me? There are women in this office with small bladders. There are individuals here who have coffee and cigarettes for breakfast. There are people who work here who purposefully eat 5x the daily recommended amount of fiber to facilitate frequent breaks. This crisis must be resolved!
“If it’s yellow let it mellow” is a phrase I’ve heard muttered over the walls of my cubicle. I work with a bunch of disgusting heathens. I will not contribute to the collective piss pot that you monsters are creating. I’ll find a tree somewhere outside to relieve myself if it really comes down to it. But that’s not the real issue here. The coffee is talking to me. And I don’t like what it is saying. How long will this third-world situation go on? I cannot hold it forever.
I suppose I could walk out to my car and drive somewhere. But that’s a three minute trek to my car, and with the utility company blocking the end of our office complex drive, I could be waiting five minutes just to get out of the complex. And then another five to eight (depending on the lights) until I get to Starbucks. Could I last that long? What would the baristas say to me as I fast-walk past them en route to the bathroom? They would know what I did as I walk out after an abnormally long period of time. They would see the shame on my face. I would have to order something out of courtesy for destroying their bathroom. The worst part is that I’m used to getting paid to poop, not having to pay for it.
I could take a roll of TP out to the edge of the complex where there are a few trees. It might be too much to blame it on the dog that gets walked around the property at lunch every day though. Plus, I run the risk of someone seeing me in my most primal form. That’s not very professional.
I do have a third option, I suppose. I could fill my trash can using water from the cooler and manually flush the beast down. It’s a standard technique used the world over, but I’ve never seen it done in the office. There is no way I could maneuver all of that without causing some suspicion. My coworkers would definitely know what is going on. The new girl would be horrified. I don’t want that kind of reputation. This is not that type of work environment.
There is no easy way out. Time is running short. I am constantly refreshing my inbox waiting for the follow-up:
All – The water supply issue has been resolved. You can now resume you normally scheduled dumps.
If only I could be so fortunate..
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