crucible of ennui

Have you ever noticed how in an extreme corporate climate, it’s impossible to (may I be indelicate for a moment?) take a dump. Maybe it’s just me because I have a hang-up about using a bathroom other than the one at home, but it’s not like you can just saunter into the bathroom with reading material and camp out while you do your business.

The worst? If you’re in the bathroom, by yourself, confident that you have a few moments of private and someone walks in. Most of the time, I freak out and abort mission. ABORT ABORT. I really hate that. OR I have to play the “I’m-going-to-hide-in-the-stall-and-wait-for-the-other-person-to-leave-so-she-won’t-know-who-stunk-up-the-bathroom” game. But then I have to pull my feet up so my shoes won’t be recognized. So why bother? I’ll just drive home, thank you very much.

Last week I walked into the bathroom and there were two ladies involved in a stand-off, neither would leave before the other. I went in, took care of business, washed my hands, APPLIED LIPSTICK, and then left - I didn’t hear a thing: No breathing, shifting around, a little polite cough - anything. Actually - I think they’re still in there.