In our old office, we had our own bathroom. We supplied our own toilet paper. Every Monday, our office manager would go to Costco and pick up practically an entire skid of Cottonelle. And by Friday. Gone.
I wondered what was going on in there behind closed doors.
This went on for months.
Then one day, someone on their way to pee stumbled upon a couple guys from the office next door. They were exiting our bathroom. Each lugging a sixteen-pack of TP.
Cheap-ass corporate raider bastards. I had to go over there and have some words. Triumph in the name of toilet paper.
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