Office Job Confessions

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program, Entirely Erwin, already in progress:

Complete silence.

Toilet paper rolling.

Wiping.

Flush.

Pants pulled up.

Work shirt tucked in.

Jangling belt tightened.

Stall door lock turning.

Those are the sounds that the guy in the stall next to me in the washroom at work is hearing. Bet he didn’t expect to hear this one coming:

BOOM!

That’s the sound of me giving the stall door a nice shoulder block. Mistakenly thinking that unlocking a door actually means that the door is not locked and therefore open, I ran into the immovable object that is the washroom stall door on the left. I'll never assume that again.

Then a brief moment of self-discovery – holy crap, when I’m stuck in a washroom stall, I get claustrophobic! I’m not sure if my anxiety was coming from turning that damn lock back and forth and shaking the walls of the stall as I think of Chris Jericho's entrance song "Break the Walls Down" in my head without anything happening or if it was the feeling that the guy next to me (who was completely silent throughout my whole ordeal) was like a time bomb literally waiting to explode with the biggest, stankiest, nastiest shit known to man.

I digress – is it me or does it seem like office washrooms are like church of scientology birthing rooms? I’m not sure how it is in other places of work, but in mine it seems like a requirement that there must be complete silence as guys do their business bringing some nice steaming turds into the world.