Had an epic epiphany.
He suddenly realized that his name, Scontson, suggested that he was not in fact an accountant.
But rather, perhaps, some sort of magic wielding master of illusion, creating spectacular alternative realities, and mastering the fine art of truth hiding in support of enhancing a beautiful myth of hope.
This made him sad.
As he'd obviously wasted his destined life.
So he finished wiping.
Counted the rest of the squares of paper on the roll.
And went back to work.