Contrary to popular belief, Dohee didn't go to the bathroom a lot because she drinks a lot of water. She drinks a lot of water so she can go to the bathroom a lot.
As the only bonafide, certified private time—meaning no eyes over her shoulder or mind-numbing small talk—the customer service rep relished in the opportunities to leave her desk and catch up on all of the good social media gossip and news. What would usually be a a couple of minutes usually became ten as she speedran through her Instagram and Twitter feeds; today was no different.
Not even a full hour after clocking in for the day, the young woman made her escape to the ladies' bathroom down the hall. When her vicious FOMO was officially sated, she prepared herself to leave...only to find the door jammed. "Fuck—" the swear came out hushed as she tried the lock once more. Then she tried a few more times, each failure punctuated with its ownm metallic clicking, an expletive...and a few more just for good luck.
Refusing to call for help or end up stuck in the germ cubicle for too long, so as to save face, she began assessing her options.
She could climb over the stall, but she was sure that it'd end up in her death with her height...or at least a twisted ankle that she was NOT going to explain. Her gaze traveled to the gap at the bottom, shoulders immediately slumping as her only option dawned on her.
Taking a steeling breath and pocketing her device, Dohee got down on all fours and crawled under the stall while mentally accounting for her personal can of disinfectant spray. She would most certainly be spraying her entire being the millisecond she got to her desk, maybe even a millisecond before.
Time is relative.
