I work in an office. I'm surrounded by well dressed, college educated professionals.
I work with people who should be able to handle most of what life throws their way.
2 hour conference calls? No sweat.
Boring corporate lunches? Cool.
Life or death last minute deal making? Pudding.
But somehow, someway, just outside the stall door, at the end of a long brown streak, there is a naked turd on the floor of the bathroom.
How does this happen?
I don't recall every leaving a turd on the floor anywhere? Am I the only one?
My mind boggles as I try to figure this out.
Is there some obscure piece of bathroom etiquitte I haven't heard about?
Like a belch after dinner in Turkey, is a turd on the floor of the bathroom a sign of appreciation to the janitors?
"Gosh, you guys do such a nice job cleaning this place up... here's a turd!"
Seems like something I would have encountered before.
Or is it a cultural thing? Perhaps there's a gentleman from Turdanistan crouching in front of the bowl, happily washing his hands in the toilet water while laying some pipe across the tile.
But then wouldn't I be encountering this sort of thing on a daily basis?
Could it be a silent cry for help? Some poor overworked executive melting down and needing a hug. Too tough to reach out to his fellow office workers, instead he carefully places a sculpted turd on the bathroom floor, and now sits waiting for someone to come in to his office and confront him about it.
Enter Mr. Porkman. Chairman of the board.
"Bob, did you perhaps leave something in the bathroom?"
"Why, whatever do you mean Mr. Porkman?"
"I'll cut to the chase, Bob. We found it. We found your turd. The board and I have discussed this, and, well, we understand."
"Really? Really you do Mr. Porkman?"
"Yes Bob. You've overworked and underpaid. We're giving you a week's vacation and a raise."
"Oh thank you Mr. Porkman, thank you."
"You're welcome Bob, and we're sorry you had to poop on the floor like that just to get our attention."
"Mr. Porkman, you're the best."
"No Bob, you are. And Bob, that was a turd to be proud of. Now come here and give me a hug!"
Cue violins. Cut to a closeup of the turd. Roll credits.
I'm just not sure.
Maybe it's just one of those things I won't understand until I'm older.
When I'm 65 and being shuffled out to pasture, perhaps I'll sneak out of my retirement party just long enough to steal a final box of pens and lay a fat turd right across the doorway of the bathroom stall. My final F'you to the whole lot of em.
Or maybe I'll just forget where I am and start pooping everywhere.
What about Quantam Physics? Did a wormhole open below someone's ass in one bathroom and transport the turd onto the floor in this one?
All is not knowable by man. Perhaps this is for the best.
Maybe, like the immaculate conception or Keith Richards, the turd on the floor is just one of life's unexplainable mysteries.