Sleeping In the Job?

I never know what to expect when I wake up in the morning.  My life is not filled with routines and daily agendas.  And I have always attracted and welcomed peculiar and less predictable situations.  One particular day which I have been dying to tell you about (whomever YOU are) is, of course, another unconventional day in the kitchen. 
My day starts early, wake up at or around 4:30 am, walk about 15 minutes to the train, ride two subways and then walk another 5-10 minutes to work where I am usually the first person to arrive.  I have to unlock and lift a gate then unlock the front door, turn on all the lights, turn the hood and ovens on.  And of course, brew my morning coffee which I haven't even had the chance to enjoy yet.  But on this particular early morning I arrived to find the gate already lifted.  The front door is still locked although that is not uncommon because it automatically locks when shut.  After walking in I glance around and see that in the early darkness of the morning and rather warm offices that I have to walk through before entering the kitchen the distant bathroom light is on.  After crossing the offices on the left and the walk-in freezer on the right, the bathroom next to the tiny dry storage department light is on.  An unrecognizable backpack and winter jacket is thrown half-hazard on the tile floor next to the door. 
Now, my heart rate increases slightly and flashbacks of the meatpacking district early mornings start to creep into my imagination.  The early morning cat calls from the transvestite hookers just getting off their shifts,  opening the back doors of the trucks for an early load in for a morning party and finding transients asleep in the only shelter that would suffice for that evening.  Or discovering the occasional hooker finishing off his/her John in the safety of our companies vehicles.  
I have had my share of rude awakenings but I have always had someone with me in these encounters.  This time I was alone.  At first I try to open the bathroom door and find it locked.  Then knocking cautiously I wait for an answer, nothing.  Listening, I try to hear any sounds coming from the other side, but nothing.  Next, I pound fiercely on the door and still no answer.  Although this time when I listen, I hear a gentle snoring.  My thoughts go to, someone has broken in, in the need for shelter and locked themselves in the bathroom, shot up some heroin and noded out.  The only sleep that could have prevented someone from hearing my fists against that door would be a drug induced coma. 
Immediately next, I call the executive chef and with a slightly frantic tone in my voice, let him know the scene I have walked into.  I tell him I'm calling the cops and I'm going to wait around the corner at Starbucks where I will buy a coffee, on the company, because I haven't had the time to have even one sip of caffeine yet.  There is no comment from the other side of the phone.  After his pause, he starts out cautiously.  Don't call the cops quite yet, Lindsay.  I believe I may know what is happening.  One of the guys didn't want to go home a couple of nights ago and slept in the basement.  I think it maybe him again.  I listened, with not a lot of surprise, mind you.  Although, I had to respond, you think its him, asleep, in the bathroom this time??  But why in the bathroom, I ask?  Chef says, "I don't know".  I'm coming into work now.  Don't do anything yet and just let him sleep.  My only response, is fine, okay, whatever. 
At 8 o'clock, only my pastry chef has arrived.  I go to the bathroom door, pound on it again, because by this time if it is an employee it is time to work regardless asleep in the bathroom or the basement.  I hear the sudden startled shift of a body and the slam of a toilet seat.  And five minutes later out walks the man whom the chef had previously predicted.
Later, I ask the chef what the situation is with this guy.  I'm told that he had been spoken to early the week prior that if he missed one more day of work do to drinking he would be fired.  So in order to not miss work, after drinking all night he came to the kitchen, puked in the toilet and passed out in the bathroom.
Now I'm not a cold-hearted person by any means.  At the time of talking with the chef I expressed a great deal of pity and concern.  I started to suspect that this bear of a line cook may just be homeless and down on his luck.  But there is a large gap between me and guys for many reasons and I will never know the real reasons why he didn't go home those nights.  But he came very close to spending a morning being woken by the cops and all his fellow kitchen buddies watching.