PIP (Poop In Peace)

Have you ever noticed how :

(a) You inevitably forget to mute your cell phone when you visit the poop can in the office ? and

(b) You inevitably get a call from your Boss when you are "delivering" the "goods" ?

Every time my phone goes into the MJ mode (my ring tone now is a tribute to MJ - The last un-earthly laugh in the Thriller song) in the confines of the 3 ft x 4 ft cubicle, I know it's gotta be my Boss. That guy has an uncanny ability to po(o)p up in my life in the most un-opportune of moments.

This is how the conversation goes most of the time :

B: Update me on the status Sam ? (he just is NOT able to pronounce my name right)

Me : Well, work is on, 2 modules delivered. One more 'on the way' (this I mention after I peep through the tiny aperture between my opulent tummy and the rim of the throne and observe 2 tiny crocodiles underneath the water and bubbling and one more in 'suspended animation' stage)

B : So what is the issue ? Why has it not been done by now ?

Me : Well .. Time was a constraint.

B : Do you need more resources to give you a helping hand ?

Me : No no. Thanks for the help though (Huh ! 'Helping Hand' .. what a joke. As if they would 'pull' things out)

B : You don't seem very conversational this morning ..

Me : Who ? Me ? Of course not. I am good. (With a grimace, as I try to 'push' the W-I-P version out, and end up emitting a noise).

B : Hey ! What was that noise ? You again watching the re-runs of the Wimbledon on YouTube in office hours ? I could hear Steffi Graph grunting with the serve.

Me : Huh ? Oh no NO !

B : Something is really wrong .. You ok maaiite ?

Me : Yeah, yeah, am ok. (I feel like screaming 'No I am NOT and I want to tear off your brown beard for not letting me poop in peace’).

B : Aaaaah .. now I know what's eatin’ ya .. must be the wifey .. Yeah, yeah I know how painful they can be .. remember, I was married thrice.

Me : Uuumm .. no no, that's not the issue. Am good. Am good (Maaaiiite, just GO !!!! I am blissfully married. Not like you)

B : Hey, why don't we meet up this weekend for a beer or two @ Clarke Quay ?

Me : Yup, sure. (No !!! I don't want to have another session of listening to your escapades in Thailand)

B : So, any more updates ?

Me : Well .. one more just 'delivered'. (Now there are 3 floating around)

B : Good. Listen, you MUST let me know when the whole thing finishes. Talk to ya later

Me : Sure (Trust me, you don't want to know)

I end the call. Wipe and flush. As I stand in front of the mirror and count the number of grey hairs on my side burns (the wife has been pestering for quite some time now that I start dying my hair), I find a very familiar voice nearby "Honey, sorry, I was on the phone with Sam .. that bugger needs to be chased now and then .. .. What ? Oh WOW !!! .. So your hubby is out of town, is it ? … Then why don’t I pack some dinner and come down at 10 ? You still do have my toothbrush at your place, right ?"

I shockingly stare at the locked poop cubicle .. 2 counters away from the one where I had been moments ago. I can see the tip of the brown shoes protruding out nearly out of the door.

Bugger ? Bugger me ? Huh ???

Bugger YOU !!!!

*******

PS :

1. Ronjha-Moyee, is this a perfect example of OCD ?
2. Inspired by a conversation in the next poop cubicle today morning. The bloke was talking to his wife and taking down the grocery list for shopping on the way back home.