>be me
>desk jockey job at a chemical company
>pepper spray and tear gas is one of the things we do
>one of my coworkers enjoys rubbing one out during lunch break
>thinks he's slick about it
>idea so retarded it might work
>one day shortly before lunch break, he's about to head downstairs to check on production
>ask him to doublecheck storage while he's down there because the numbers for raw OC, PAVA and CS (pepper spray and tear gas, basically) don't make sense in the system
>"yeah sure, anon"
>he never has anything to do with storage
>guy disappears
>reappears
>"we have so and so of this and that, anon"
>"cool, thanks"
>minutes later, he disappears into the bathroom
>"AARGH"
>sound of running water for 10 minutes
>comes out of the restroom
>pained look on his face
>hunched over posture
>goes home for the day
>he tried to jack off and forgot to wash his hands to get rid of all the raw pepper spray and tear gas fluids sticking to the containers
>mfw