When did I start living in a sitcom?

I really don't make any of this stuff up, but anyway....

....there I was, drying my socks under the hand-dryer in the toilet using the expedient method of placing my hands *in* my socks and waving them about in the hot air, when the door to one of the cubicles opened and a grey-haired Sideshow Bob look-a-like emerged.

Now it should be noted that I wasn't on my usual floor. I wanted to take my socks and shoes off where my entire department (and bosses) couldn't see me, so I snuck up to the 3rd floor and happily bared my feet. I should point out that I know nobody on the 3rd floor as it's 90% cliquey girls up there so I figured that the men's toilet would give me more uninterrupted sock-drying time.

Anyway, Sideshow Bob-a-like looks over his shoulder while he's washing his hands and watches me doing the 'disco sock puppet' for a second or two and says to me "Hi! What's your name?"

Normally when strange old men start asking me personal questions in a public toilet I tend to run away, but I was barefoot anyway and he seemed harmless. Plus I was nearest the door.

"I'm {Red Squirrel}" I say (obviously not my real name), and because I really, really can't help myself sometimes I started mouthing the words with my right sock puppet. I don't think he noticed.

Okay, at this point I should own up about my socks. My socks at the moment have the day of the week written on them (yeah, yeah, stop laughing). The toe and heel and brightly coloured - the rest is black. I possess these socks because I'm not a morning person and it saves me time to find two matching socks by hauling out the yellow tipped ones on a Wednesday from my underwear, um, 'pile'. Thankfully it's not a Friday, otherwise they'd have been the magenta ones that don't look at all 'bright pink'. No-one can normally see them and no-one ever would've done if I hadn't found out that I have a hole in my shoes on the same day it has rained torrentially all day.

After half an hour of sloshing through puddles this morning, my feet were soaked.

So, right, back to the toilet. Sideshow Bob-a-like engaged me in conversation for a few minutes about the project I was on and how it was going etc., all the time I'm still waving my sock covered hands around to keep the hand-dryer going. As he was leaving, the old guy turned to me and said, "I'm Jerry by the way."

Blank look. *wave socks, wave socks*

"Um," he says, noting my expression, "the Managing Director."

Ooops. *wave socks, wave socks*

Brain: I have an idea.

Me: Go for it.

"I'd shake hands, but..." I say, nodding towards my hands, "....y'know..."

Me: What the fuck was that? You just reminded the MD that you're drying the gayest pair of socks ever - ON YOUR HANDS.

Brain: Ah. Yeah. Sorry.

The MD laughed and left me still waving my hands around. Way to make a first impression.

The door opened again and I turned to see another guy come in. He stopped just inside the door and stared. I smiled, nodded, and made that little 'Tch'-rolling-eyes-with-ironic-smile gesture that clearly meant 'You mean you don't dry your socks like this?????'

"Ha!" he said, pointing at me. "Weren't you the guy who spilled coffee down the stairs yesterday?"

Oh. Fucking. Great.