We’ve all lost bits of ourselves between the blender demos and revolutionary mop systems. And I doubt we’re getting those pieces back anytime soon.
Simon prowls around the monitors. “Make sure we get a solid shot of the bidet settings. I want the viewers to feel like they’re right there, getting their rear ends power-washed into next week.”
He raises a hand, his scowl deepening as the sweat stain on his shirt expands into a disturbingly accurate map of the British Isles. “Live in five, four, three, two—”
The red light flashes.
I flick on my appliance-queen smile, beaming into the lens.
“Are you ready to revolutionize your bathroom experience?” I chirp. “Say goodbye to outdated, germ-ridden toilet seats andhelloto the future of hygiene.”
With a flourish worthy of Houdini, I press the button on the remote, ready to wow the viewers with this porcelain marvel.
And . . . nothing.
Well, notnothing.
The toilet lid begins to lower.
Slowly.
Agonizingly.
A low, ominous gurgle rumbles from the toilet bowl—the kind of sound you’d expect from a haunted bog in a horror film.
But I’m a professional. Or at least I’m clinging to the tattered delusion that I am. So I plaster on my most dazzling everything-is-fine grin—the one I practiced in the mirror for exactly this kind of situation—and power through.
“With the AutoToiletPro, you’ll never have to lay a finger on a filthy surface again—just one little press of a button and it’s all taken care of—” I jab the remote harder, willing the damn thing to pick up the pace.
The lid freezes mid-descent. Considers its options. Then resumes its glacial journey, as if it’s trying to sabotage my career one inch at a time.
There’s a sick kind of poetry in this moment.
I’m relating to a toilet.
We’re both struggling and full of shit.
“See how sleek and modern and efficient it is—honestly, a total game-changer—and just for today, we’ve got an exclusive deal on this cutting-edge wonder that you won’t want to miss!”
Another gurgle rumbles up from the porcelain void.
I am one more gurgle away from losing my goddamn mind.
Next up, the bidet.
I inch closer, my stomach knotting. The urge to either burst into hysterical laughter or dissolve into a puddle of tears claws at my throat, but I force it down—because this islive TV, and Simon is glaring at me like he’s already picturing how my head would look shoved into the self-flushing bowl.
“And today!” My voice cracks. I ignore it. “Today we’re also featuring the Smart Bidet Deluxe! A bidet so advanced you’ll never have to touch toilet paper again.”
The camera zooms in on the bidet, buffed to a blinding shine under the soul-scorching studio lights.
A thick, heavy lump lodges in my throat, impossible to swallow.
Oh, come the hell on.
Of all the places to have an emotional breakdown,why here?On this set? And of all the ridiculous triggers,why a fucking bidet?
I glance down at the offending fixture, babbling words I’m no longer hearing. Something about “sleek design.”
