fired up and alarmed

-----Scatological content warning (this seems to be a regular theme...)-----

This morning, for the first time in my life, the work fire alarm sounded while I was on the throne, giving birth to YOUR twin (a.k.a. laying a Boss Hogg). I am proudly regular in this exercise, usually mounting said throne between 8.30am and 9.00am, Monday to Friday (the weekend tends to throw my routine out).

I was presented with a quandary – do I:

1. Assume the alarm is false and calmly wrap up proceedings in the men’s room before exiting clean but sheepish?
   
   Or
   
   
2. Assume that the alarm is not false and rush/shuffle outside with now-soiled boxers and trousers?

Of course, I chose option 1. I’ve never once experienced a work fire alarm that anybody thought was real. People tend to blithely gather their belongings and saunter casually out the fire exit. Sure enough, none of the alarms I’ve experienced has been real. But, obviously, some are. I guess people need to see flames and smell smoke before they take things seriously.

The question you are no doubt dying to ask is: WAS THIS CONVERGENCE OF EVENTS A MERE COINCIDENCE??? Well, you don't need me to tell you how puerile -- how downright INSENSITIVE -- that is. I shan't dignify it with a response.

Anyway, I got to the outside meeting point a couple of minutes after everybody else. One of the IT women (as in "information technology" -- not "It"; I don't know any "It girls"... not that I couldn't move in those circles if I wanted to, mind you) told me, smiling, “If it’d been a real fire, you’d be dead!”

Yes, but at least I’d have died with clean undies.