Several years back, I worked for a large computer company that shall remain nameless. A year after I moved to my current city, the company moved from some old leased office space to a brand new high rise, one that it would abandon a few years later in one of many dumb moves that were to come for this company. There happened to be one toilet in the men's room that was notorious for backing up -- so much so that you didn't use it unless you had to, or you didn't know any different.
My first experience with this toilet required me to do the old pull-up-your-pants-and-hope-you-don't-get-shit-on-your-underwear-while-you-go-to-another-stall routine. My friend... wasn't so lucky.
This guy was the sort who had no issues with telling embarrassing stories. One day, he told me, he entered the stall from Hell and sat down and did his normal business. As often happened with this cursed toilet, when he did his courtesy flush it backed up -- but he wasn't aware of it, because he was reading. Soon after the flush, he suddenly felt, as he put it, "something cold on my ass." He looked down in horror as, as he put it, "the logs started spilling out of the bowl into my pants."
He was stuck on an overflowing toilet with pants full of shit and shitty paper.
I asked him what he did.
"I didn't know what to do at first. I realized that the only thing I could do was pull up my pants and get out of the office as soon as possible.
"I lifted up my legs and shook the logs out onto the floor. When I got all out that I could, I pulled up my pants and made a beeline to the door. I was planning on simply leaving, going home, changing, and explaining later. But as I was going out the door I met my manager coming in, and I was forced to explain not only what had happened and why I was leaving, but endure his looks at the floor of the stall where I had dumped my logs.
"I never used that toilet again."
