You tiptoe out of the bathroom, leaving the toilet-bowl nightmare full of smeary, partially-digested Combos and a long, papery white husk that you’re just gonna have to hope isn’t a tapeworm behind.

You open the door and step outside, as nonchalantly as you can manage. Out of sight, out of mind.

“All finished in there?”

Oh Jesus. It’s Barbara Houseman, the CEO of your company. She’s tapping her fingernails against the side of the coffee cup in her hand impatiently. Fuck, there’s no holding off Barbara Houseman.

“Um… yeah.”

“Good. I left my phone about five minutes ago,” she says. “I’m just going to pop in and grab it.”

You can’t possibly stop her. You scurry away as quickly as possible to your cube.

An hour after your little bathroom misadventure, an office-wide email from Barbara shows up.

The subject line reads “First floor toilet.”

Gulp.

You open it.

Dear everyone,  

Every office has unwritten rules. Ours is no exception. I never thought I’d have to outline appropriate bathroom hygiene practices to a group of adults, but someone–who I’ll be contacting separately for further discussion–has acted so unprofessionally that I find myself forced to do so.

Going forward, it will be official company policy to reserve the main-floor toilet for client-use only. Under no circumstances should it be used for solid waste. If, for some reason, you ignore these rules and destroy the bathroom, act like a professional and contact custodial services immediately.

I apologize to the 99% of you who are aware of how to act professionally.

Barbara  

There’s another email in your inbox from Barbara. But until your stomach settles down, you’d rather not open it.

THE END.


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