I was going to start this post off with, "the other day at work". But then I realized that I start a lot of my posts off with that. I guess the cat is out of the proverbial bag, here. This particular post takes place at work. And not surprisingly, it centers around yet another encounter in the bathroom.
With that out of the way, let's get on with it, eh. At work, we have 2 bathrooms, but y'all probably already know that by now. Both men's baffrooms have one stall, while the first has 2 urinals, and the other has 1 urinal. Entering either washroom is always a gamble - you never know if there's going to be someone in there just waiting to make an awkward bathroom encounter, or worse, if there's someone in there making the brown stuff happen. Of course nobody bothers to lock the door when making a number 2. Thanks, assholes.
Walking into the hallway bathroom with 2 urinals, I decide to chance it. And chance it I did. Right as I reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and out strolls a member of management.
Not mid-level management, no. This guy has upper management written all over him. He also wears the smile of a man who just created something toxic. Something so putrid that he probably waited in the tiny bathroom, waiving his arms in the air, for 5 minutes while the stench dissipates.
Anywho, I'm comin' in, and he's goin' out. Without noticing just who it is, I'm about to offer up my standard, "what's crappenin'?".
At the last second, I notice his sheen of corporate brass, and it damn near blinds me; thus forcing me to morph my regular greeting into:
"what's cr-happ-how are you doing sir?"
While narrowly avoiding disaster, I couldn't help but wish that the bathroom interaction would have gone more like this (lol, nevermind the fact that this happens between a father and son in a house, and my story happens between a, well, not a father and son, in an office) :