So I had a little meltdown at work today. You know, holiday stress, last-minute assignments, all that fun stuff. And so I snuck out of my cubicle kingdom for a minute to go take a few deep breaths.
I went to the ladies room. Not a good choice for a variety of reasons, but my options were limited. I locked the door of the stall and just stood there, trying to organize my thoughts and tell myself that yes, I could get everything done, and no, I wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown.
And then I heard it. Tweedle-dee-deedle-dee-dee. Tweedle-dee-deedle-dee-dee. A cell phone. Right next to me. I smirked a little. Well, not everyone has great timing, right? But then, I froze. Because someone ANSWERED it. From the STALL.
Taking calls while indisposed? Is this the new trend? Are we that busy? I should have maintained my dignity and swept out, disgusted. But instead – quite possibly due to stress and sugar overload – I started giggling and couldn’t stop.
“Yeah, mmm-hmmm,” said the voice. Rustle, rustle, rustle. “I guess, if you have to, but I don’t know when we’ll get there.” Shift, rustle, rustle, FLUSH. “Okay – wait a minute.”
The door opened. I didn’t have the courage to look and see who it was. I was red-faced from my sophomoric attack of giggling. That meltdown? Ancient history.
And I owe it all to Chatty, my bathroom friend. I hope she had a great conversation. I hope she got to wherever she needed to be. But most of all, I hope she remembered to wash her hands.