I hope no one’s in here. I love it when no one’s in here.
Yes! It’s empty. Sweet, sweet sanctuary. If I had known, I would have brought a bean-bag chair and hung out for a while.
Heh – bean-bag chairs. I remember those.
Go figure. The counter is soaked again. I don’t get it. This is the 17th floor and you need a security pass to get up here. It seems unlikely that vagrants are regularly bathing in here, and yet…
And what’s with the paper towel on the floor? I mean, to avoid this you just need EITHER a) basic motor skills, or b) a single solitary fuck to give in consideration of the maintenance staff. Guess this is what you get when you slap neckties on a bunch of baboons.
Wait – baboons have excellent motor skills. And probably a decent capacity for compassion. Guess I just work among assholes.
I wonder if I can count all the visible tiles in the time that it takes me to go.
Four, eight, twelve – ew, what the hell is that on the floor??
Maybe if I kinda blur my eyes, I can make the tiles into a sort of ‘Magic Eye’ image.
Heh – Magic Eye. I remember those.
Dammit! Stupid door opening. Goodbye, sweet solitude.
Why is it that I so seldom get an uninterrupted bathroom break alone? This is deeply, personally unfair.
When I’m CEO of this place, I’m going to get them to build me a replica of this exact bathroom for my exclusive use. I will have my pick of the stalls, and nobody around to harsh my mellow. And there’ll be bean-bag chairs everywhere. Plus a snack bar… Wait, that’s a little weird. I’ll have the snack bar just outside the door.
You’d think that with all the wonders of modern engineering, by now they would have come up with tiles that aren’t acoustically immaculate for filling this space with bathroom sounds.
Jesus, is this guy okay?? Should I ask him if I need to send for medical assistance?
Don’t look at his shoes. I do not. Need. To see whose shoes those are.
Fuck! I looked at his shoes. Carlos and his stupid unmistakable wingtips. There goes my focus for this afternoon’s meeting with him.
I’ve never before wanted these fluorescent lights to buzz louder.
Man, this is taking FOREVER. I guess two large coffees before 10AM was a bad idea.
I wonder what the world record is for longest pee.
Guess I have my googling cut out for me when I get back to my desk.
Wait – they’ll probably see that in my search history.
But do they actually look at that? And even if they did, I’m sure they realize that there are people who look up way worse stuff on company time.
If they confront me about my internet habits, I could easily make the case that I’m not even in the worst 20%. Look at Jerry: every time I walk by his desk, he’s frantically closing some window on his screen.
I’ll even volunteer to help them go through Jerry’s browser history.
What do you MEAN Jerry’s browser history is irrelevant?! This is a goddamn outrage. You better hope the company didn’t skimp on the hiring budget in Legal, because there is one HELL of a wrongful-dismissal suit coming this way.
Wait – now I’m having a full-blown argument with people I made up, for reasons I equally made up.
Whatever. I would sue the living shit out of this place.
Dammit! Poor choice of words! Carlos: enough already, dude.
Thank god. Finally done. Let me just wash my hands and get the hell out of here.
No soap. Are you kidding me??
Maybe if I pump the dispenser more vigorously… Shit. Still nothing.
JESUS! WHAT IS THAT scurrying across the floor?!?
It’s a bottle of hand sanitizer.
It came from under the stall wall.