Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve done this enough times in the past that I know better by now. My dignity and I would rather take a dump in the comfort of our own home. Or if time is of the essence, some obscure "off the beaten path" work bathroom on another floor. I don’t care if I have to move old boxes and cleaning supplies out of the way to do so, that’s worth having the peace of mind that I’m not going to be forced to take a dump while gazing down at my assistant’s stupid yellow shoes, who also just happens to be taking a dump. "Oh hey Kate, can you please have those files on my desk by tomorrow? And by the way, I’m super happy I now have the sound of your butt jazz carved into my memory."
Communal work bathrooms should be outlawed for the sole reason, that no one’s self respect can exist in the same room, as the overwhelming scent of co-workers poopy aromas.
The last, and only time I took a work dump, I thanked fuck that no one was in there when I walked in. But that quickly changed after I sat down and the bathroom began filling up like a beer tent. Why is it that when you're sitting on the toilet and someone walks in, you feel like you're doing something wrong? Suddenly I was compelled to remain perfectly still for fuck's sake, like a loose assed jailbird trying to elude the prison spotlight. Maybe if I don’t make a sound, people won’t know I’m in here, I initially thought. But then I realized, mainly because it’s what I do when someone is pooping, that my shoes were a dead give away. Too uncomfortable to unclench my butt cheeks, my original intentions went by the wayside, and I found myself not pooping. Instead I just waited for the bathroom to clear the fuck out before I could leave with the belief that my identity was kept secret.
I have since learned that a friend's Dance Studio two floors down is much more accommodating :) ..hi5!