Not locking bathroom door at work leads to shame, emotional scarring

We have been told that this site just doesn’t have enough bathroom humor. Luckily, I have plenty of experience in such matters. This post should satisfy this request.

Many moons ago I had just started my first job out of college and worked in an environment where there were only 5-6 employees. Because of this, anytime I needed to take a leak –which is often since I drink water like a camel yet have the bladder of a 3 year old dwarf–I would just go to the communal bathroom, rip open the door, and let loose my stream of heated urine. I just knew when someone was in the bathroom or not.

Until one day.

I had to piss. Bad.

I darted to the bathroom, grabbed the knob, and tore the door open, while grabbing onto my zipper with the other hand.

And then I saw a sight that I wish I could delete from memory.

There sat my boss, looking up at me with eyes as big as saucers. In one, horrific second –I saw everything. His pants down to his ankles, his recent production of feces floating in the bowl, his Afro of pubes that hadn’t been trimmed since 1983, and his twig and berries dangling between his legs.

We both froze like a deer in headlights. I quickly broke from my trance, turned around, walked out.

We never spoke of it again.

But our relationship was never the same.

It’s hard to respect your boss when you’ve seen him in the most vulnerable state imaginable. When he is spouting off motivational cliches all I could see was that PICTURE IN MY HEAD. MY BOSS AND HIS FRESH TURD. I never wanted that again. So I began knocking. All the time. And I started to think that EVERYONE else does a courtesy knock.

I was wrong. So wrong.

Flash forward to present day. After working at that same job I mentioned for over a decade, I moved and began a new career. In Florida-I’m not sure if you’ve heard–it’s FUCKING HOT. This means that I drink EVEN MORE water during the day. Quarts. Gallons. Oceans. If you are behind me at the water fountain…I hope you remembered to bring a book. The pissing by yours truly is now completely out of hand.

So, I’m standing in the employee his/hers restroom dumping pints of pee into the toilet and then it happened. The door began to open behind me.

Why didn’t they knock?

I should mention a few things at this point.

1. I’m the boss
2. I work with 100% women
3. There is only one bathroom
4. I did not lock the door.

The bathroom is shaped like a long hallway with the door at the opposite end where I was standing, balls out and schlong in my palm. I instinctively leaped into the air like a crazed kangaroo and did a backwards 2-step while shouting “Occupied….!!!” and pushed the door closed with one hand while clutching my junk with the other.

My mission was accomplished. Disaster of epic proportions averted! The door was now shut, locked, and I moved quickly back to my previous location to complete my pissing. Then I loosened my grip.

Have you ever noticed when you turn on a garden hose on full blast and it’s all twisted up that it just sort of sprays everywhere? Good. Me too. Well, somehow, in my acrobatic backwards jump I had somehow kinked myself —- and I certainly don’t claim to have a garden hose. How can I put this? IT……..spun.

Upon release, I jetted EVERYWHERE BUT IN THE TOILET.

On both of the walls, on the toilet seat, on the floor, and all over MY PANTS. Trying to avoid a bad situation with a co-worker had turned into complete chaos. I was a human sprinkler. I was the Peter North of piss. I had given myself and the entire room a golden shower. And my problems had just begun.

I now had:

A: a bathroom coated in urine
B: an employee waiting outside
C: only 2 paper towels left in the entire bathroom

Did I mention that it was my first week? Who the hell is in charge of supplies?

Fun fact: Paper towels are not the best at getting out pee stains from dress pants. Neither is toilet paper. Also, two paper thin towels do not provide the necessary absorption to clean this fluid FUBAR.

Moving like the Tasmanian devil, I did my best to clean up the embarrassing evidence to no great success. I opened the door and left with pants that smelled like a truck stop and no remaining toilet paper or towels. My employee was standing directly outside. I went to an early lunch to change.

I am not sure if she ever noticed the disaster I created. Maybe I covered up the catastrophe.

I can tell you one thing.

We never spoke of it again.