a.k.a why you should definitely make potty jokes if you’re seeing greys.
so there you are, in the middle of a high-stakes business meeting, your boss is red in the face, ranting about synergy and market shares.
suddenly, you're struck by a profound, all-consuming truth: you need to poop.
not in a metaphorical sense, not in a 'life's journey' kind of way, but in the very literal, very urgent sense that if you don't act on this biological bulletin, your suit is going to have a very bad time.
this, my friends, is the universe handing you a balloon animal of opportunity. it's your cue to embrace the unscripted ballet of life.
and what should you do?
you say, "oopsie, i need to poopsie."
congratulations, you've just practiced casual whimsicality.
but hey, let's back up.
what does it mean to be whimsical?
it's that delightful quality that allows you to see the absurdity in the mundane, the humour in the hardship, and the possibility of a disco dance-off in the middle of a downpour.
it's about finding your inner child who's been buried under a pile of code reviews and setting that little devil free.
anyways, back to poop fiction —
you're in the middle of a potentially life-altering social situation and the intestinal gods have chosen this moment to remind you that, no matter how high you climb in life, you'll always be just a glorified poop factory.
step 1: never let them see you sweat (especially when it's butt sweat).
you're about to pull a houdini with a bathroom break that has all the urgency of a nasa countdown, yet you've got to make your exit with the nonchalance of someone stepping out for a breath of air, not a battle with the bowel beast.
remember, everybody in that room has been where you are now. they've all had their backs against the wall, or rather, their cheeks against the seat.
they understand the stakes.
the real whimsy lies in not letting the existential dread seep into your expression.
keep it light, keep it breezy, and for the love of all that is holy, keep it silent.
it’s all in your head.
how many times have you fantasised about shouting something absurd in the middle of a very serious workplace meeting? or a funeral?
casual whimsicality is not just for the manic pixie dream girl trope in indie films anymore. it's for you, rahul, accountant at deloitte. or shefali, who’s designing the storage schema for swiggy to scale past a million concurrent users.
in the grand cosmic joke where we're all the punchline, you might as well be the one holding the microphone.
as you make your way to the facilities, you're not just a person; you're a ninja, a phantom, a bathroom-bound batman. glide across the room, your mind focused, your face an unreadable enigma.
are you about to unload the brown freight? or are you contemplating the socio-economic implications of cryptocurrency?
they'll never know. they should never know.
you’ve made it. you’re now in your solitary confinement, it's just you and the abyss, staring each other down.
this is where champions are made. this is where you face the abyss and the abyss not only looks back, but it also flushes.
you might consider this the lowest point of your evening, but is it not also the most human?
is there anything more grounding than the knowledge that no matter what titles you hold, degrees you've earned, or accolades you receive, you still have to squat over a ceramic bowl and deposit your waste like everyone else?
when you've finished the deed, washed up, and returned to the fray, you'll realise that you've not only survived, you've thrived.
you've turned what could have been an awkward mishap into a masterclass in composure.
so what if you've made a deposit at the porcelain bank? you've withdrawn some life experience and maybe a little bit of humility — and more importantly, you had fun.
well, step one is to recognise the moments when seriousness is about as useful as a chocolate teapot. or when you're so late for work that you could either stress-sprint to the office or accept your fate and compose a rock opera about a snail's quest for speed (i loved turbo, but it had so much musical potential).
here's the thing: life is an unending stream of potential poop emergencies.
it's messy, unpredictable, and occasionally requires a change of pants, and the only way out is to find the fun in the dysfunction.
- identify the ‘poop’ moments. these are the times when things are not exactly going as planned. instead of panicking, acknowledge the absurdity. maybe even laugh about it. that laughter? that’s the sound of whimsicality percolating.
- practice your 'oopsie'. it's not just a word; it's a philosophy. it's the verbal equivalent of shrugging your shoulders while wearing a top hat and monocle. the 'oopsie' is your armour, your anthem, and your magical defence potion.
now, don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating for a life of impractical jokesterism. there's a time and place for seriousness—like when you're defusing a bomb or performing heart surgery.
but for the other 99% of life, skip when you could walk. wear a cape on a casual friday. order dessert first. you’re a flesh-covered skeleton piloting a rock hurtling through space.
and remember, the guide to practicing casual whimsicality doesn't end with the poo.
it's just the beginning. also, adulthood is a trap. a big, boring trap with taxes on one side and people who talk about how hard it is to do them on the other. never forget.
now go forth, armed with your new knowledge, and turn those 'oopsie' moments into stories you'll laugh about later.
possibly much later — after you've changed.