My manager wasn’t happy. “Why are you late? You know this meeting is for you.”

“I’m sorry, I was in the shower.”

“A shower at 10.30am,” she said, not shouting but strong displeasure apparent through the video link, “Have a shower when you get up or after work, not when we’re paying you to be here. What made you think this was acceptable.”

I looked at the faces of my colleagues, some of them shocked at her vehemence, others amused, some curious to see my reaction. I was angry, too tired and too poorly to disguise it, and that also meant I was too honest with my reply.

“Because I just shit myself.”

Mouths fell open. Compassion and horror across the screen.

“I’m sorry,” I added sarcastically, “I’ll wear a diaper in future. In fact, I’ll go and find one now.”

I hung up. I’d had enough, and dealing with her shit wasn’t something I needed; I had enough issues dealing with my own.