Part 1
It all started with a gift from my mom. Every year she sends me underwear for Christmas. This year for some reason, she decided to send me this thing called a ‘one-piece’ by Hanes. Basically, it’s a tank top and a pair of boxer-briefs all combined in one. Now for the life of me, I can’t imagine why any grown man would ever feel the need to walk around wearing a onesie. But, I figured it was free and it was from my mom. With that said, I threw them in the back of my underwear drawer and called it a day.
One morning, running late for a big meeting with a client, I realized that I didn’t have a single pair of clean underwear left. Suddenly, I remembered that strange pair I got from my mom. With no other options, I found them, slipped them on under my suit, and out the door I ran. Heading to the train I thought to myself, “Hey, this one-piece thing isn’t so bad after all.” It’s warm, it fits like a glove, and believe it or not; I actually enjoyed the extra support you get from the super stretchy fabric. I thought, “Mom might be on to something here. I may have to pick up a few more of these today after work.
The meeting was a huge success. I couldn’t wait to get back to the office to tell my boss that we were finally bringing Bailey & McLane on as clients. I began to smile just thinking about my huge commission check. Yep, I was definitely taking that trip to Jamaica this year. Waiting for the elevator, all of a sudden I noticed a slight rumbling in my stomach. I thought, “Hmnh, this is a bit strange.” Then it happened again, only this time even stronger. I thought, “Wait, this can’t be good.” Just then, I remembered that 12-Bean Chili the waitress talked me into ordering at the diner the night before. “Damn her!” I cursed. “I don’t even like chili.” After rumble number 3 hit, it became pretty clear that there was no way in hell I was going to make it all the way back across town to my office. Truthfully at that point, I wasn’t quite sure if I could even make it off that floor. I could not believe that this was happening to me right here and right now. This was not looking good.
In a state of sheer panic, I noticed that there was a little private restroom next to Mr. McLane’s office. Now; one of the first things I think they teach you in business school is that you pretty much never want to take a big 12-Bean Chili dump in a potential client’s restroom. That’s sort of not the first impression you ever want to leave; or even the last one. Now…even though I don’t recall ever discussing this one in class; something told me that letting a big one go on your client’s lobby floor was even far less professional. What’s the etiquettly correct way to lead into that conversation? “Excuse me Mr. Customer, but do you have a mop? Yeah, I accidentally just took a dump on your floor.” Martha Stewart herself couldn’t even pull that one off gracefully. With no receptionist in sight, I quickly slipped into the restroom before anyone saw me.
The restroom was small and extremely plush. It felt like a suite at the Ritz Carlton. This was no doubt Mr. McLane’s personal executive washroom. With that said, I figured if I was super quick; I could be in and out and no one would be the wiser. I then immediately sprung into action. After unbuttoning my pants, I realized that there was a bit of a problem here. For some odd reason, no matter how hard I pulled and yanked, I couldn’t for the life of me seem to get my damn underwear down. It was like one bad dream. I instantly began to really freak out; thinking, “What the hell is going on here?” Looking down, I realized that I was wearing that silly one-piece contraption my stupid mom sent me. “Damn her and those f*ckin TJ Max bargain bins!” I thought. “This is just great. Now I’m going to end up sh*tting on myself at work again; all so she could save a measly three dollars!!!” There’s only so many times a fella can leave work early with that excuse before people just start looking at you strange.
Thinking fast, I figured there surely has to be some kind of a quick release/emergency drop hatch built into this thing. However, as I searched my body there was absolutely nothing. This was definitely the unitard from hell. I could not believe I was going to have to take off all of my upper layers of clothing just to take a damn dump. Who in the name of God would design such a thing? Frustrated, I whipped off my suit jacket and placed it on the hook. I then quickly removed my shirt and tie, and tossed them on the hook too. Finally free of all clothes; I was then able to slip the one-piece off my shoulders and down to my ankles. With goose bumps on my chest from the cold air, I finally took a seat on the stool. I thought, “Damn that sure was a close one.”
When I’m taking a dump in a strange place, it sometimes takes me a while to get comfortable. To kill time I figured I might as well finish the video game I started on the train on the way here. So I pulled out my iPhone and began to play. It was just what I needed to relax my mind. In all the madness, I guess I somehow forgot to lock the door to the restroom. Suddenly to my surprise; the bathroom door whips open; and then in walks my client Mr. McLane. Meanwhile, here I am completely butt ass naked, sitting on his private toilet, and playing Ms. Pacman. Talk about awkward. At a complete loss for words; the only thing I could think to muster from my mouth was, “Hey there, fancy meeting you here. You want to play doubles next?” It goes without saying, I didn’t get that deal. If you like this post don’t forget to tune in next week for part 2.
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HAHAHA taht is one of the best stories I have read! They should publish that somewhere. Keep it up.
Hahahaha I didn’t even think of that Neal. Thanks for the tip for next time.
Wow thanks Brenden. That really means a coming from you. BTW Keep up the great posts with Vindrook. Hilarious.
HHHAAAAA!!!!! What a visual!