======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Look, it happens. Just when you’re planning out how to effectively waste your entire day pretending to look busy, you shart yourself. Maybe you sneezed too hard without properly clenching; maybe that innocent fart was a vile, devious subterfuge for something far more sinister. Maybe you knew it was a shart but you convinced yourself it wasn’t because you’re a grown ass person in your 20s. How’d that work out for you? Shitty. Regardless of how it happened, it happened, and the next 3 minutes are crucial. You have to act fast to neutralize this sticky situation before your cubicle neighbors smell something foul and/or you begin to feel a gangrenous rash of grossness coming on. For the next three minutes, you’re Jack Bauer, if Jack Bauer just shit his pants at work. Let’s map out your crisis management possibilities while handling what you have deemed as “Shartnado.”
1. Get to the bathroom as quickly as possible and sanitize.
Now this may seem elementary, and like the most obvious thing to do, but when you’ve just dropped a fresh, inadvertent half-load into your Costco brand undies, you’re not exactly gonna be thinking clearly and tactically. If you’ve really messed yourself good, the resources available in the handicap stall may not be sufficient. Depending on the magnitude of your backdoor eruption, cheap toilet paper and frantic prayer may not be enough to get you back into working shape. You may need soap and water, fresh underwear or slacks, FEMA and maybe even baby wipes. Top priority must be containment of this incident, since containment of your bowels is no longer possible. If you got lucky and the situation is mild, the office bathroom pit stop may be all you need to put this unfortunate business behind you and get on with your day of aggressively mailing it in. Remember to choose this option carefully, because duck-walking past your coworkers and straight into the bathroom doesn’t leave much to the imagination.
2. Leave the office and clean yourself at a remote location.
If you still have your wits about you and narrowly avoided a complete mental (and rectal) breakdown, you may decide that the office bathroom is simply not equipped to handle the disaster you have just created. You weigh the pros and cons and conclude that you need to go across the street to 7-11 or at least the downstairs lobby bathroom. If you leave the building, remember that places like CVS and Walgreens keep their bathrooms locked and you have to ask for the key. It’s really hard to nonchalantly ask the manager for the bathroom key while clinching every muscle you have with a face redder than Phil Robertson’s neck. You may have to discard your soiled underthings, so try to pick a place with just one toilet and a trashcan so you can have solitude as you throw away your shame without interruption or distraction.
3. Cut your losses and just go home.
You’re the kind of person who sees the bigger picture, who takes things for more than what they appear to be. You’re basically a walking, sharting, M. Night Shyamalan movie. You see this quarter-turd in your pants as an unfortunate sign from a higher being or the universe that you’re just not meant to be at work today. You ponder, “If I was really meant to be here today, I probably wouldn’t have shat myself.” Pretty undeniable logic right there. That same higher being also had some sort of ruthlessly bizarre vendetta against your favorite pair of boxers. You naturally fake an illness or make up a hospital story, whichever your conscience deems will result in less bad karma moving forward. Ironically, the office shart fermenting in your undercarriage is pretty clear karmic payback for anything and everything you may have done. Just go home, man, this day isn’t going to get any better from here.
Fuck the negative bastard in this comment thread. I laughed. I laughed fucking hard.
This is high quality information. I sharted on the golf course once.
No one likes playing the Devil’s Wager.
Disappointed. PGP mailing it in with ‘sharting’ columns