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The time is 2:12 p.m.
You’re on day 278 of your new job at a company that’s sinking faster than an Irish immigrant stuck in third class onboard the Titanic. You told yourself all weekend that this was the week you’d start applying for other jobs, but you’re finding that task to be difficult because of how much you can’t stand people on LinkedIn.
The burrito you had for lunch snaked it’s way through your body faster than initially anticipated. Your Hindenburg of a company could no longer afford the lease on the 27th floor of the building they’ve occupied for ten years so they’ve shoved everyone together on the 26th. This means that finding an open men’s bathroom stall after lunchtime on a floor occupied primarily by engineers is a feat akin to finding the lost city of Atlantis or a woman’s G-spot, both places of mythical legend.
However, today you find yourself in unbelievable luck. Maybe there was a Fortnight tournament going on in the break room or somebody had the sense to smash open a window and have a face to face meeting with the Embarcadero sidewalk below. Either way, it doesn’t matter because on this glorious Tuesday you didn’t kill yourself, the handicapped stall (of all the stalls) is wide open! You fight back tears, in both joy at your luck and to relieve the stinging in your eyeballs from the smells emanating from a room where grown men who subside on cans of Red Bull and personal pizzas all day long relieve themselves.
You comfortably take your seat and pull out your phone for some NSFW subreddit browsing. You figure you have at least until 2:30 p.m. until your legs start to go numb and you slowly return to your desk, grab your bottle of water, take the long way to the kitchen to refill it, return to your desk with the filled water bottle and then take the long way back to the kitchen again for a midday snack.
Until your happy place is punctured by the sound of two older, more analytical members of your company entering the men’s room together. Loudly they talk over each other about some data issue only their tiny little slice of the business has been having. Your whole body tenses up and the process you had started a few minutes earlier comes to a screeching halt as you listen to the two different voices echoing off the porcelain. Back and forth, they go on about algorithms and reporting and getting the CTO involved and their thoughts on this and that. In horror, you hear the sound of both of their flies unzipping as they merrily continue their two-way conversation from adjoining urinals. The sounds of sizzling piss hitting urinal cakes combined with their inane chatter about rev share and data management has made the whole stall you’re sitting in begin to spin.
The decision has been made for you. You need to get out of the bathroom as fast as you can. You spring to your feet but your legs are like jelly. An attempt to buckle your belt is made but you remember that you gave up wearing jeans years ago and your Lulu pants fit perfectly. As you emerge from the stall with a forlorn, lost look on your face, you see that both gentlemen are now standing at adjoining sinks washing their hands. And they haven’t stopped talking about work. You slowly slink your way up to the open sink next to them and try to think about anything else but the prison you’re currently trapped in: sports, comedy, why Skittles got rid of the Lime flavor, television. You give both men half-hearted nods, as is customary in men’s rooms encounters. The nod communicates distinctly to the both of them that this afternoon they’ve won and you’ve once again lost. You hang your head as you push open the bathroom door with your elbow and exit.
The time is now 2:21 p.m. .
This week on Don’t Take It From Us, 27_male_NYC joins Jenna Crowley and I to discuss Twitter comedy, review Bumble profiles and talk about nipple sensitivity. You don’t want to miss this episode, rumor has it his real name is even revealed (and it’s exactly what you think it is). Make sure you follow our Spotify playlist here and leave us a 5-Star Review on iTunes!
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