Stand-up Saturdays

The Teleporting Toilet: My Most Bizarre Office Adventure (That Somehow Landed Me a Win)

Let’s talk about presentation day jitters. You know the feeling – that nervous energy that thrums through your veins, the butterflies doing a mosh pit in your stomach. Today, for yours truly, Brenda the marketing maven, those jitters were being soothed by the dulcet tones of “Boss Babe Boogie” blasting through my headphones. My secret weapon against the pre-meeting freakout.

This presentation was my baby, a bold new marketing strategy that was practically guaranteed to revolutionize our approach. I envisioned myself strutting into the boardroom with the confidence of Beyonce and the PowerPoint skills of a preternaturally gifted toddler. But the universe, it seems, had a different plan in store for me – a plan that was equal parts hilarious and terrifying.

Ugh, I just had to try out a new blend of coffee.
Photo by Philip Justin Mamelic, please support by following @pexel.com

Nature called right as I was about to slay the boardroom with my brilliance. Bathroom break, deep breath, conquer the conference room – that was the plan. Except, the universe, with its penchant for comedic timing, had a different destination in mind.

Instead of the familiar glass doors of the boardroom, I found myself face-to-face with a wall plastered with vintage movie posters. Panic started to simmer. “Wrong floor?” I mumbled, patting my pockets for my phone (another nervous tic I apparently have). And wouldn’t you know it, my phone was missing?

Just then, the door creaked open, revealing a startled janitor with a cart overflowing with mops. “Woah! A new face in the broom closet?” he boomed, clearly mistaking the break room for a janitorial haven.

“Broom closet? This is the break room, right?” I squeaked, gesturing at the posters.

The janitor’s eyes widened comically. “The break room? Lady, you’re on the 17th floor. This is the projection booth!”

My jaw dropped. The 17th floor? My presentation was on the 3rd! Was this some elaborate hazing ritual for newbie marketing heads? But I’d been with the company for five years! Where were the hidden cameras, the confetti cannons, the cheering colleagues waiting to unveil the hilarious prank?

With a sliver of hope, I retraced my steps back to the “bathroom,” the familiar avocado tiles a beacon of comfort. Thankfully, the reflection staring back wasn’t some bizarre office doppelganger. Emerging with renewed determination, I braced myself for the boardroom this time.

Except, this time the door led me straight to the… supply closet? Crammed between printer paper and sticky notes, I let out a burst of hysterical laughter. This was just too absurd!

Maybe, just maybe.
Photo by Lucas Pezeta, please support by following @pexel.com

Just as I began plotting my escape route, the door swung open again. There stood Mr. Kensington, our impeccably dressed CEO, a man who could probably quote Shakespeare in his sleep. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Brenda? In the supply closet? With printer ink on your… shoe?” He gestured to a rogue black streak I hadn’t even noticed.

I could only manage a sheepish grin. “Bathroom malfunction, sir? Teleportation kind of malfunction?”

Mr. Kensington, a man not exactly known for his humor, blinked. Then, to my surprise, a slow smile crept across his face.

“Brenda, you never cease to amaze me. Now, about this presentation…”

His unexpected amusement sparked a fire under me. I launched into my pitch, weaving a narrative that showcased the brilliance of my marketing strategy. The initial shock of the situation faded, replaced by a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor as I recounted my bizarre journey to the supply closet.

And guess what? The presentation was a hit! The board was engaged, Mr. Kensington even chuckled a few times about my “unconventional route” to the boardroom. (Thanks, Mr. Kensington!) As I left the room, a wave of relief washed over me mingled with a strange sense of exhilaration.

Back at my desk, I spotted a small, framed picture on a colleague’s desk. It was the avocado-tiled bathroom, the one I’d so confidently mistaken for the restroom. Underneath, a caption read: “Out of Order. Use at Your Own Risk.” My eyes widened. So, the “teleporting toilet” wasn’t a malfunction at all…

Looks like this office has a few more surprises up its sleeve. Stay tuned for the next chapter of my adventures in teleportation and marketing domination!

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