So I Crapped My Pants On A Conference Call

So I Crapped My Pants On A Conference Call

We have all been there. Stuck on a conference call, whether it’s with a client or internal, and it hits you. It’s go time. Do you mute yourself and sneak into the bathroom? No, technology has a chance of malfunctioning. I don’t want to be like some of my other coworkers who have been called out for being able to hear them flushing or pissing.

Allow me to set the stage for you. I have a wedding coming up on July 10th and I’m not in the best physical condition, so I decided to crash diet. I have been eating chicken, broccoli, and pounding protein shakes religiously. I have been doing this for about 6 weeks.

With that said, if you have ever been on a diet for an extended period of time you know your body gets used to the clean eating and not all of the trash you usually put into it. So, if you eat shit, it is literally going to run right through you. Your body does not give a fuck where you are either. When it’s time to empty the tank, it’s no longer on your time. No, it’s on something much more primal. So primal that it will pull the trigger for you even if you are trying to turn the valve off with your hands.

It was a typical Friday; I had all intentions of mailing it in and not doing a single thing all day. Then, an email came in titled “Donuts in the break room.” I have the craziest sweet tooth. You offer up free sugary treats and I’m going to eat them all. My mother must have had chocolate milk in her tits when I was breastfeeding.

I got cocky and figured I would allow myself to cheat this one day and have a donut. Now, I have zero self-control. Once I poked the bear, the bear got out and it was chaos. I must have eaten five donuts. I was sitting at my desk literally in pain. I thought an alien was going to burst out of my stomach. Then a G-chat came in saying, “Hey John, can you jump on this call really quick? I would like your input.” Aching in pain, I joined the conference call.

Now, I can’t remember what exactly was being pitched because I could feel my stomach starting to process the ungodly amount of food I had just binged on. I was starting to sweat. I was so uncomfortable I stood up and started pacing in my office. I even took it a step further and decided to take my button-up off.

There I was, pacing back and forth in my office looking like I just ran a 5k with the amount of sweat pouring from my body and no shirt on. I started to look around the room for places to shit. Do I use the garbage can? Maybe, but then what do I do with it? How can I safely transport the garbage bag outside to the dumpster without running into someone and them catching a whiff of diarrhea? Do I drop the bag out of the window? How about my laptop case? That may be the best option. It’s such a nice laptop bag, though. I didn’t want to drop a couple racks on a new one.

That was when I decided to make the ultimate sacrifice. I took my L like a man and shit my pants.

It was the most relieving bodily function I have ever had. It felt like a cool breeze coming off the ocean. It was beautiful; I think I heard the voice of Leonardo DiCaprio whispering, “It’s okay to let go.” I had shit my pants and I was perfectly okay with it.

Now, I was in a real predicament. What do I do with my pants? I immediately got off the conference call after adding a couple words like “sounds great,” “super duper,” and “neat-o gang,” grabbed some scissors, and sprinted to the bathroom. I walked into the stall frantically, pulled the scissors out, dropped my pants and cut the brown stain out of my briefs.

I was home free. I literally just cut myself out of a nightmare. I walked back to my office and sat down. Just then a coworker came in and said, “fajitas for lunch today?” “No thanks,” I replied, “I don’t want to fall off the wagon.”

Image via Shutterstock

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Rich Homie

The College version of myself would kick the shit out of the Corporate version.

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