The Office Poop

Everybody does it.  Some do it every day, some more, some less.  Poop.  Why are we so shy about it?

One of my best friends has issues with going to take a poop, especially at work.  For many years, her grandmother lived within a block of work, so every day my friend would toddle off at 10:30 am or so to "visit" her Nan - which basically consisted of her leaving a stinky, steaming gift in the bathroom, a quick hello, and back to work.  This went on for YEARS.

Now, I had offered some advice (for my own amusement, mostly), and even purchased her a book entitled, "Everybody Poops" but it was to no avail.  She refused to do a number 2 at work.  I suggested that someday she try the handicapped bathroom on the second floor, because nobody ever used that bathroom, it was single stall, and she'd have the place to herself.  The only time anyone ventured up to the second floor was if there was a client of the bank on the first floor asked for a public washroom.  Most clients couldn't be bothered to go upstairs, so it got little use.

Months later, desperate and worried she'd not make it to Nan's, my friend gave in, and entered the suggested bathroom to do her business.  She was not 100% comfortable, but managed to drop some kids off at the pool.  As she was about to finish, she heard a knock at the door.  Panicked - but dying to get out of the stench she had created - she tried to think up an escape plan.  (And of course, part of her was convinced I'd been watching and waited until I knew she was good an comfortable before I started knocking.  Sadly, it was not me.  I wish it had been.)

Realizing there were no options (as the knocks continued) she opened the door quickly, stepped out and leaned against the door to close it, blocking entry.  An elderly gentleman stood there, looking perplexed.

"Excuse me," says the man, clearly wanting her to move the hell out of the way.  "I'd like to use the restroom."

Shit.  Not this one, buddy.

"I'm sorry," says my friend, "I'll have to take you upstairs."

So she hauled this old guy up to the 3rd floor, takes him into the secure area of the office to the staff washroom, and waits for him to finish his business.  Then, as she's leading him back to the exit, he leans in and says, "Thanks for thinking of my nose."

She still refuses poop at work, claiming, "She'd rather die first." I really think she means it.