If You're Going To Scratch Your Life's Confession Into The Paint Of The Office Bathroom Stall, Change Into A Different Pair Of Shoes First Day!
We've all hit that 3 o'clock low. When the phones are kind of quiet and the faxes have all been filed away and you glance up at the clock and what do you see but three fucking oh mothersucking seven.
Some of us are perfectly fine with filling up a small fraction of those remaining 118 to 178 minutes with a little Minesweeping. Others might phone up current lovers who have yet to "describe to me what my mouth does when I sleep and use a thesaurus." Still others might take out the portable sewing kit and prick a wound in an index finger just to have something essential to suck down.
And then there's people like you who decide you cannot make it to 3:08 without letting the world know who you've broken. The foul air of a public toilet will construct just the right crypt for your legacy of violence in the face of any word spoken with sincerity. You have your paper clip bent open even before you get out of your chair and you perspire your way down the hall to begin your big list of "It was me all along."
Hold up there Catholic Cathy. In every office there's one or two folks who simply MUST know what every single person on the floor is up to at all times, and there's four or five folks who dig identifying who shits at what decibels by matching a face to the shoes under the stall. What I'm saying is, after you're done sending spittle-gilded pants all over your list of "People I've Been Naughty To," someone nosey might put together that that stall was graffiti-free up until your pair of Skechers wandered into it.
Just keep an extra pair of shoes hidden but handy for times like this. That way when "None O' My Business Nancy" sends a fifty cent piece rolling under your desk just to crawl down there and ID your loafers, she'll come up with nothin' but a whiff of Desenex and some dirty knees. Extra shoes are also a big help if you don't want anyone to know you're voting for something.