The only thing worse than walking home in a lab gown is the reason why you’re walking home in a lab gown in the first place.
The whole day, you’ve been behind schedule in the lab for at least an hour. Now, you have to stay late on a fucking Friday night. Just as you are about to finish work, you drop the final experiment of the day into your crotch, soaking your jeans in all manner of salts and buffers. But no, not only are your jeans now soaked, they are soaked in a very very embarrassing way. At the very least, you look like you need diapers.
It gets better. You get up to go get your lab coat, which should cover you up, but which you really should have been wearing in the first place. It is, instead, sitting in another lab. In your rush, it doesn’t enter your mind that the door to the lab you’ve been working in locks behind you as you step out. The one key that lets you in is shared among your co-workers, and so is not in your own personal key ring. This fact somehow slips your mind as well. It is only after you’ve grabbed your lab coat and walked back when you realize that the all-important key might, in fact, still be lying on a lab bench that is now behind a locked door. Oh shit.
Miracles do happen. You stick your hand in your jeans pocket, and find the key there.
Somehow, you get yourself to repeat the last experiment. At last, you walk home, in a lab gown. You’re only grateful that you don’t meet anybody you know on the street.
