Poop Bathroom Security Breach.

Poop Bathroom Security Breach.

I have a dedicated poop bathroom at work. It's genius, tucked away in a sea of cubicles generally occupied by men. There are only two women who sit over there, so there's some slight calculated timing involved. No biggie. And I'm near enough to not look completely obvious walking there. Definitely a win-win situation. Nobody witnesses me work-pooping, I can work-poop in peace, and my insides no longer have to withstand 9+ hour stretches of inactivity.

But there's been a breach. Yesterday, I was rinsing my coffee cup in the break room nearest my poop refuge, and I saw a woman from accounting, which is far, far away from the poop bathroom, come out! Of MY poop bathroom! And she surely pooped. Why else would she make the trek? My secret is out, and I'm not good at sharing when my bowels are involved.

We made eye contact as she left the bathroom. Kind of an "I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE" look fired back with an "I KNOW YOU KNOW WHAT I'M DOING HERE" look. Maybe a little "dude, should we call each other first from now on?" but it was primarily animosity.

Sure, there's a chance she's been pooping there longer. Maybe it was her poop bathroom long before I came to work here, and I'm the one digging in her turf. But seriously, at least I sit somewhat close and can fake some reasons for being near the P.B.

I don't know if I can go on like this. It's hard enough for me to not lock the main door and turn on loud music, much less constantly worry that she will walk in, see a closed stall, and instantly know who it is and what I'm up to with nary a peek at my shoes. This changes everything.

My new plan of action is to eliminate the poop bathroom.

No, I'm not going to resort to torturing my bowels again. I'm simply going to make the poop bathroom the everything bathroom. The other, non-poop bathroom is too crowded anyway. And the breakroom near the poop bathroom (my "of course I have a reason to be over here, look at me, rinsing my cup" cover) will become my everything breakroom. I already use the fridge for my soy/oat milk, but I'm going to completely ween myself of the other, non-poop breakroom. If the poop-breach woman sees me in that area, she'll soon realize that it's because I'm just using my breakroom, and oh look, while I'm here, I may as well pee. Or poop. It makes NO DIFFERENCE.

It's like when Sydney brought down SD-6 in season 1 of Alias and didn't have to sneak around the CIA office anymore. She could actually use the front door. My poop bathroom was my secret access door, which, while sneaky and ultimately beneficial, was a total hassle, a little shameful, and ultimately meant bad news for me and my loved ones. Sure, the show started to go downhill when she was no longer a secret double agent (incidentally, I am so thrilled about the new secret! agent! again! plotline), but at least she doesn't have to concern herself with poop bathroom invasions. What with the private dressing room and all.

I hesitated to write about this, because another female coworker has access to this blog. But I'm pretty sure she hasn't read the blog in a while so we're safe. However, on the off chance you are reading, DAMN YOU IF YOU DARE POOP IN MY BATHROOM. I'll go all secret agent on you.