TIFU by becoming the office plunger

I’m the only woman in my office, which means the women’s bathroom is my private bathroom. That sounds great until something goes wrong and there is exactly one suspect.

Today, I clogged the toilet.

I flushed, watched the water rise, and immediately realized there was no way to blame this on anyone else or skedaddle out of there. To make matters worse, there was no plunger in the bathroom.

My options were to tell one of my male coworkers that the women’s toilet was clogged, knowing they would instantly know it was me, or solve the problem myself.

So, in a moment of pure panic and terrible judgment, I used my hand.

I will spare you the details, but it worked. I washed my hands so many times that I may no longer have fingerprints. Which will be great should I need to flee the country and start a new life under an assumed identity.

I returned to my desk acting completely normal, while internally processing the fact that I had just reached into a toilet to protect my professional reputation.

TL;DR: I clogged the women’s toilet, found no plunger, refused to confess, and became the plunger.