Quiet time

So without going into lots of detail, we were sitting in the stall yesterday newspaperless and just looking for a timeout from the day. *Sigh* Peace and tranquility in the bath--

"(OMS)! Is that you? I can tell by those funky shoes you wear!"

Would our coworker really ID us in our private time and then proceed to --

"So I was thinkin'... what is your favorite all-time concert? Mine was Bruce at the blah blah blah sold tickets blah blah blah sat in the first row behind the stage blah blah blah..."

"Mmm-hmmm," we said, mouth agape.

He proceeded to talk for the next five minutes straight.

And then he left.

We took a deep breath and prepared to resume our day.

And then he came back.

"I guess I should wash my hands, right?" he said, before launching into a different diatribe about God knows what and wear Manny might end up. At this point, the stall wasn't even remotely fun anymore.

So he left. We washed our hands. And literally seconds later, we passed each other in the hallway. Ew. Awk. Ward. Doesn't even begin to describe the violation we felt.

BATHROOM TIME IS PRIVATE TIME!