Ordinary Tales of Extraordinary Discomfort

I should set up a little background before I go through the sordid details. The "Executive Bathroom" at work (the least filthy of the bathrooms) is situated no more than 10 feet from my desk. It's essentially a normal bathroom except that it's out of bounds to most of the staff. There are no fancy keys, cherub fountains or bowls of candy like you see in the movies.

The owner of the company is in his mid-eighties and only shows up once every month or so to check up on us.

Onto the story.

So the owner decides to pay us a visit a couple of days ago. Around 11 in the morning, I'm working away on some paperwork and he comes into my office to check his stocks on the Internet. We start talking. Mid conversation, he walks into the bathroom. Under the assumption that he was just there to wash his hands or blow his nose, I continued the conversation. This was, until I heard the unmistakable sound of pants unzipping and...uh... number 1. Let me note that the bathroom door is open the entire time.

At this point, I'd lost all interest on the conversation at hand and could only respond with:

"yuh"
"mmm hmm"
"okay"

All the time not paying attention to anything he was saying and looking for a way to politely excuse myself.

I know I'm overreacting but... what the hell, man? Is this an example of workplace efficiency? Of effective multitasking? Am I to repeat this demonstration to my fellow co-workers?

A part of me died that day.