It’s some Fight Club-like secret that everyone takes to their grave. A quick scan around the office would reveal nothing more than some mild mannered people hunched over their computers, staring wide-eyed at the content streaming by. Some are wearing blue-jeans, some are wearing khakis. Some are in button-up shirts and ties; others are in t-shirts that say Armani Exchange in pink lettering across the back. No matter what they’re wearing, all of them share a deep dark secret. All of them have, at least once, been a part of The Company’s bathroom grotesquerie.