This is part two of a multi-part series. Not caught up yet? Click here to read part one.
Could this be my salvation? I don’t ever wish ill upon people (except Biebs when he threw shade at my boy Shawn Mendes), but all I want in the world right now is for one of my beloved coworkers to come down with a case of the shits so unbearable that he sprints in here full bore and triggers the motion sensor, freeing me from this porcelain prison.
Fuck. It was one of my coworkers going to the bathroom, but it was a chick using the ladies lavatory next door. It’s times like these you begin to lament the fact that your female coworkers aren’t just dudes in drag. On second thought, that wouldn’t really benefit anybody ever except me in this exact situation. My buddy Cody in accounts receivable and I wouldn’t have chicks to rate the attractiveness of every morning on Slack (Sally is currently atop the leaderboard this month with a daily average of an 8.2), and, because of the wage gap, the ladydudes would be making less money than they would if they identified as men. Still, I hope that maybe one of them has been keeping a secret from all of us. Except Sally, of course – that would make me feel too many feelings.
Hmmm… Now that I think about it, do I really want anyone to walk in on me? That’d be pretty embarrassing. Plus, if Kerry in HR comes into the bathroom and the light turns on to reveal my incredibly noticeable stork legs peeping out from under the stall, that will not be reflected positively in my performance review.
“Yeah, Joe’s a pretty decent worker, but I’ve walked in on him sitting in a stall in the dark. I’m not going to speculate as to what he was doing because honestly Joe’s a weird dude and I don’t want to know, but I do know that there’s a fifteen-minute timer in that motion sensor. So, whatever he was doing, he was doing it on our time, and he was doing it for a long time.”
It’s been decided. I can’t wait this one out. I’ve gotta make moves. I’ve probably only got about another minute left in this shit, but, since I suffer from Andy Dwyer disease…
… I’ll be here for at least another five minutes after that. And that’s only if I’ve been eating more fiber than usual lately. Do Taco Bell’s new boss wraps have a lot of fiber? No? What if I ate two in my car alone during my lunch break?
Goddammit, Joe. Stop depressing yourself and start putting that pea-sized brain of yours to use! You need to make a move now, because if you wait out the full six minutes, there’s a good chance someone will walk in on you. You’ve already been in here alone for like twenty minutes, so you’re playing with fire as is – a fact your b-hole knows all too well after that Taco Bell.
Do I stand up, pants still at my ankles, waddle over to the door and open it? Sure, that’ll set the motion sensor off, but what if somebody walks in while I have the door open? They’d see everything. John Stossel and the Geodudes would be just sitting out in plain sight. I guess I could risk it. If I got caught, I’d just have to fully commit to a story that is better than my current situation. I think I’ll say to the unlucky intruder “there’s no toilet paper in the stall,” walk over to the paper towel dispenser by the sink, and just violently wipe my ass right in front of them. That’ll be less weird than them walking in on me pooping in the dark, right? RIGHT?
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