There’s a certain expectation of monotony in a corporate bathroom. An orderliness in behavior that affords us the luxury of letting our guard down. It can be reasonably ascertained for instance that the urinals will be used exclusively for urine and the sink counter will not be used to fulfill any regrettable carnal yearnings. The facilities are generally well maintained, there’s a notable absence of the pesky bathroom attendant threatening to soak you in Drakkar Noir and the company is determinedly mild-mannered. That being said in rare, momentary lapses the corporate bathroom can breed traumatic experiences that will haunt for an eternity.
I entered the office bathroom as aloof as any other day, noting the violently taupe walls and subtle smell of sulfur. I paused immediately after entering and took a moment to cherish the ordinariness of it all, a perfectly crafted environment for no one and everyone. I continued walking in allowing my admiration of the stale, lifeless surroundings to fully consume my attention, but as I passed the wall separating this peculiar albeit pleasant world from the terrors outside, I noticed something that didn’t belong. Or perhaps someone.
In the middle of the two sinks that inhabit the majority of the counter stood a man, gazing deeply and satisfyingly into the mirror. He appeared to be inexplicably wearing a pair of carpenter flare jeans that had a light wash and seemed like they shouldn’t be worn anywhere, let alone work. Tucked snuggly into the pants was disproportionately small button up shirt, which only functioned to make the flared jeans appear even more like JNCO’s. Though I objected to the workplace garb, this wasn’t the most upsetting part of the experience.
I promptly relieved myself, returning to the sink only to find the dimwit looking as smug as ever only now he appeared to have washed his hands and was standing between the two paper towel dispensers that were approximately a full wingspan apart. Instead of using a singular dispenser like anyone with a sliver of self-awareness would, he stood as though on a crucifix collecting paper towels simultaneously in both hands. I stood behind him waiting for the ceremony to end, watching his face go from smug to pure triumph. The chosen one for this bathroom, a new born king, a corporate deity.
Our eyes never wavered in what seemed like an eternity, figuring out how to circumvent the outstretched arms of the self-proclaimed bathroom god. I looked on with a mixture of curiosity and disdain instead of the admiration he sought, I finally decided to nudge through and as I did I heard an audible scoff followed by a sneer in the mirror. He crumpled the massive wad of collected towels and blatantly missed the waist bin and he stormed out. I see him around every now and again and he appears as ordinary as ever, but in that bathroom he reigns supreme for he gets two towels at the same time. The rest of us sniveling cowards could only dream of it.
