I Hid In The Bathroom For My Entire First Week At Work — And Got Promoted
Part 1
I never backed down from a bet in my entire life.
It was a character flaw that had cost me my dignity on multiple occasions.
But this time, it was going to make me rich.
My buddy Tyler slammed two crisp hundred-dollar bills onto the sticky surface of our favorite diner table.
He looked me dead in the eye with a challenge I simply could not resist.
“I will give you this cash if you can last a full week at a new job without doing a single second of actual work,” he declared.
The rules he laid out were incredibly simple but strict.
I had to clock in on time for every single scheduled shift.
Staying inside the building for the entire eight-hour duration was also mandatory.
And I absolutely could not perform any task that could be construed as actual labor or helping a customer.
Challenge accepted.
I immediately applied at a massive big-box retail store on the edge of town.
The place was a sprawling, chaotic maze of fluorescent lights and cheap plastic goods.
I figured it was so gigantic that a single body could easily slip through the cracks unnoticed.
My interview consisted of a heavily caffeinated manager asking if I possessed a pulse and a reliable vehicle.
I passed her rigorous screening with flying colors and was hired on the spot.
Day one began with a soul-crushing orientation video about synergy and customer excellence.
The moment the outdated television screen went black, my very first shift officially started.
I grabbed my scratchy blue vest and walked straight past the bustling checkout registers.
The electronics department and scattered seasonal aisles were completely ignored.
My destination was the employee bathroom at the extreme back corner of the store.
Bypassing the open urinals, my choice was the last stall on the far end.
The heavy metal door swung shut as the rusty deadbolt clicked securely.
Taking a seat on the cold toilet lid allowed me to pull out my fully charged phone.
Doing absolutely nothing productive for the next eight hours was the ultimate goal.
The first two hours of my shift were surprisingly peaceful.
I scrolled through social media and watched old sports highlights on mute.
Then the metal handle rattled violently.
Someone started aggressively shaking my stall door with terrifying urgency.
“Hurry up, I’m going to crap my pants!” a panicked voice screamed through the gap.
My stomach plummeted as I scrambled to adjust my posture.
My feet quickly lifted off the ground, pressing my knees tight against my chest.
Holding my breath became necessary until my lungs actively burned for oxygen.
The stranger muttered a string of colorful curses and finally gave up.
I heard his heavy footsteps sprint down the hall toward the women’s room.
A silent sigh of relief escaped as the porcelain throne reclaimed me.
Day two elevated the stakes to a whole new level of danger.
A different manager marched into the bathroom to conduct some sort of official wellness check.
He paced slowly down the long line of stalls.
I realized he was checking underneath the metal partitions for loitering feet.
Standing completely barefoot on the actual toilet seat was the only option.
Pressing my entire body flat against the cold tile wall felt like a scene from a spy movie.
He strolled right past my stall while humming the store jingle completely off-key.
My calves cramped from the intense strain of holding the unnatural pose.
Day three was when the external world truly began to crumble.
The paper-thin bathroom walls provided a front-row seat to the corporate chaos outside.
A manager dragged an unfortunate employee out into the adjacent hallway right outside my door.
She was screaming at the top of her lungs about missing office supplies.
Apparently, the guy had been stealing expensive printer paper for six straight months.
He just kept yelling back about his screenplay and how she didn’t understand true cinematic art.
The bizarre commotion only ended when security physically escorted him out through the blaring fire exit.
Day four descended into complete and total madness.
Three separate people were clearly heard getting fired before my lunch break even started.
Two other employees simply quit by walking out the front automatic doors.
They didn’t even bother to tell management they were leaving.
Then a massive, echoing crash rumbled from the front half of the building.
Rumors filtered into the bathroom through angry walkie-talkie chatter.
Some guy had gotten caught kissing a customer behind the garden center displays.
He had somehow knocked over an entire pyramid of heavy ceramic planters in the process.
That afternoon brought my absolute closest call yet.
The grumpy maintenance worker shuffled into the bathroom to fix a leaky pipe near the sinks.
He set his rattling toolbox down just six feet away from my sanctuary.
Sitting completely frozen on the toilet lid lasted for nearly a full hour.
Both hands clutched my smuggled burrito to keep the aluminum foil from crinkling.
He just kept muttering to himself about how the place always smelled like fast food and broken dreams.
Friday morning arrived with an ominous, heavy energy.
The massive retail store sounded like a genuine war zone.
Constant overhead announcements blared non-stop about staffing emergencies.
Desperate voices frantically paged for immediate backup to every single department.
At one point, I clearly heard the thunderous rumble of what sounded like a shopping cart race crashing through the electronics section.
Absolute conviction set in that my luck had finally run out.
Facing the music seemed inevitable as the clock ticked down to the final minute of my Friday shift.
The bathroom door slowly pushed open, leading out onto the brightly lit sales floor.
Bracing for the police was useless, because instead, the store manager locked eyes and broke into a full sprint across the sales floor.
