I don't [actually] understand the visceral hatred people have with their office.

Really. I don't.

The workplace, or the office, is where interesting stories are discovered. The reason is simple. This is where funny, weird, strange, and desperate people congregate.

And desperate people do funny things.

Really. I swear.

Consultants & Analysts Work Long Hours. We Get Cranky.

I started my career in a technology consulting firm 15 years ago.

Then, it was the place to be. People wore body-hugging branded shirts, blink-blink cufflinks, and visually assaulting leather shoes.

I was impressed before I got in.

And even more so when I was admitted to the club.

I mean, how on earth do they stay fresh and alert for the entire day?

We work 16, 17, and 18 hours flat-out non-stop, man. The top dogs don't smell, too.

Jonathan, my mentor and [a] Managing Director, always looked like a million bucks.

I remember working with my US counterparts for a deal Jonathon was in charge of. We worked Asia-Pacific hours into American time zones.

We slept 3 hours daily. Tops.

Then, I was ambitious. I went with it. But my body couldn't. My hair wax collapsed, I was itchy and sticky, and I needed a biological release.

I could tell I wasn't the only one. Alex, Alistair, and even the butch in our team looked biologically unfulfilled. We were cranky.

That was us.

Not Jonathan.

And at that point, that exact point, my sperm-invaded brain popped one question.

"How does he cope with it? He is a guy also, right? Does he know something I don't?"

That Creepy, Out-of-Sight Printing Room.

This was the place where deal books were printed.

It was a small room filled with tools necessary to disseminate our great ideas on ink.

On the left upon entry were brochures, invitations, name tents, name cards, quality letterheads, simple letterheads, big envelopes, small envelopes, book covers, laminated covers, formatted papers, staplers, clips, pins, and thumbtacks.

And we did all things physical on the right.

There were multi-color laser printers, massive multi-color printers spitting out 100s of pages within minutes, black ink, red ink, blue ink, toners, binders, tapes, paddings, reams of paper, and 10 mechanical binding machines.

These were things I would find on any other day.

I found 'something' extra one fateful evening.

It was one naked corporate monkey busy with his squirt gun.

"ALEX! Jesus Christ! What are you doing! I mean WHY are you doing this here!"

I gave him a kick that sent him rolling further into the room. I quickly shut the door behind me and double-locked it.

He moaned and groaned while I shut the door.

"5 more seconds please… almost… almost… Ah…"

I gave him that 5 seconds. In truth, I did not want to see what I saw.

I started counting.

"5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"

I turned around after hitting 1. Alex's face was flushed in light pink. He was visibly tired and had no intentions of getting up from the floor.

"Oh my goodness, you squirting monkey! Get up quickly! There is no time to lose! We must get the deal books printed in 30 minutes. The prospect is coming!"

Alex did not move.

He was exhausted.

"MOVE!! You ASSH0LE!"

I was suffering from a double panic attack by now. What if we were caught and reported to HR? What if our deal books were not printed in time?

"Don't~~ worry~, ahh~, the papers are printed and stacked on that table… we just need to bind them~~"

I looked up and saw that pile of paper Alex pointed to with his wobbly, lanky, hairless arm.

I breathed slightly easier. Maybe, just 2 seconds.

A heart attack swiftly followed.

Someone knocked on the door. I jumped.

The worst thing? It was someone we both knew.

It was Dora, the butch in my team.

"Hey guys, we are running late. Jonathon sent me to help."

I almost died.

And Alex was rolling on the floor, soothing his crown jewels. It must be overwhelming, evident by the giant murky puddle just beside him.

"Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God!!! There goes my promotion!!!"

I chimed in desperate silence.

I muttered a silent prayer. I swear Jesus had forsaken me. There was no reply.

Only prompts.

"GUYS. WE ARE RUNNING LATE."

I needed help. The clock ticked fast. So, I threw Alex's shirt and pants to cover his bare skin and rushed to the door. Dora could help with the bindings.

I am so sorry, Dora!

Alex whimpered as the clothes landed on him.

"No, no, no, the shirt landed on the puddle~~"

I didn't give a shoot. My career was at stake. I will fret over Alex later.

I opened the door.

I told Dora not to scream.

She didn't. She was bemused.

"Oh, wow, Alex! Haha, you have a pimple on your left butt cheek! Haha! Must be really itchy! You need a butt tan, man, you are so white!"

I got Dora to jump over Alex and to the binding table.

We have a lot to rush.

"Oh my gosh! Some of the papers are sticky! Yuck, it smells!"

By now, I could hear no sound. I needed to have our printed deal books ready and get all of us into the meeting room.

"Dora, you will carry the clean stacks. Make sure these are distributed to our clients. I will carry those with stains. These will be for internal distribution only. Get it?"

She went straight into action.

"Roger that."

The Close

The Good Lord finally answered my prayers.

We rushed to the meeting room and found ourselves 2 minutes early. Jonathon was hosting the prospects.

We greeted them and got busy.

"Remember. Distribute yours to the prospects. Check the name tents."

Dora did [exactly] that.

I distributed the stained ones to the internal team. Dora had one with a yellow stain on the cover. Alex's book was so sticky it couldn't flip.

Jonathon got one with multiple yellow blots on the 'About Us' page. It must be a sign from Our Good Lord.

Jonathon pieced together everything quickly.

He noticed the visible yellow stain on Alex's white shirt. It was above the left pocket of his pants. Jonathon fought hard to contain his sniggles.

The meeting went well, much to my surprise. By then, my soul had departed.

I told Jonathon I was heading home.

He agreed. And he added.

"Make sure you relax yourself."

I ignored him.

I was in a rush.

To shower and sleep, of course.

I've been egged on by Denis Gorbunov, Matt | Financial Imagineer, and Sarina Chiu to write real-life stories beyond retirement and money. This is my first attempt at wicked workplace humor — Let me know your thoughts.

This is a real story with fake names attached to real characters.