A Potty Break

Hey, y’all! I’m starting to get into the swing of my new job and back into the swing of the blog, but I’m not 100% there yet, so I hope you’ll forgive me for posting a repeat. I dug deep in the archives to find this one. originally posted in November of 2017. Let’s take a potty break!

If you are at all uncomfortable discussing things that happen in a restroom, this probably isn’t going to be a good read for you and you may want to jump out now while you still can. If that kind of thing doesn’t bother you, then read on, but proceed with caution. I don’t need any hate mail. I already know I cross the line. It’s a daily occurrence.

One of my first blog posts was about the things I may or may not miss about work when I’m no longer employed. I’ve come up with a fresh list but it has more to do with the restroom at work than work itself. This list of things I hate about the restroom at work has been compiled over the course of sixteen years. Continue at your own risk.

Phone Booth

There’s nothing like sitting in a bathroom stall, minding your own business, when you suddenly have to endure an entire conversation of which you can only hear one side.

Yes, people who treat the bathroom stall as their own personal phone booth are among those I will NOT miss when we’re all gone.

It’s not that I don’t want you to call the doctor’s office and discuss your upcoming appointment, or call your sister to discuss the potato salad you’re going to make for the barbecue.

It’s that I don’t want to hear the sound of your pee while you’re talking about potato salad.

I realize that given the strict time constraints that have now been placed on us, our break time comes at a premium and we have to maximize the time allotted to us. Believe me, I’m all for multi-tasking.

But maybe while you’re pooping isn’t the time to negotiate a lower interest rate on your credit card.

And speaking as the person who has been the one on the other end of the phone line, I don’t want to become familiar with the sounds of your bodily functions while we’re discussing business.

The Discourteous Germophobe

Are you one of those people that has to wrap the toilet seat with a paper cover before you can sit on it? If so, then you owe a duty to the rest of us.

Make sure it flushes before you leave the stall.

I personally am not OCD about such things. I’m not worried about catching something from a toilet seat. Science has proven that things like doorknobs and telephones have more germs on them than a toilet seat.

There’s nothing worse, however, than making a mad dash to the restroom because you waited too long and as soon as you get into the stall, you’re greeted with this:

Not cool, dude. Not cool at all.

Here’s the deal. If you’re going to use a toilet condom, please don’t leave it behind. I know the toilet flushes automatically, but it doesn’t take that much effort to make sure your crapper wrapper isn’t stuck to the seat.

Obviously, if you use one of these, you’re leery of germs and other yuckyness that may be lurking around the corner, so to speak. Just because I am not, it doesn’t mean I want to have to sit on your old poo/pee paper and marinate my buns in your cooties. Nor do I want to have to touch it to stuff it down into the toilet so it’ll flush the next time around.

You’re probably asking yourself why, if I don’t care that much about germs, am I grossed out by sitting on someone else’s bun paper?

Fun Science Fact: Paper is more porous than porcelain, fiberglass or plastic. Therefore, there are more cooties on that paper you just set on the seat than on the seat itself. The paper literally absorbs everything that touched it, including what’s on your tushy.

Have some courtesy and deal with your own potty prophylactic yourself so we don’t have to.

Mining For Gold

I truly, truly wish I didn’t have to write this, but it has become an almost weekly thing.

Sitting on the pot, not really looking at or thinking about anything, when your gaze falls upon the wall of the stall. You are met at eye level by somebody’s nose nugget.

May I just take a moment to address whoever the hardworking miner(s) is/are that keeps leaving the fruits of their labor behind?

You are a disgusting human being.

I firmly believe in the sanctity of the bathroom stall. What happens in that tiny space, stays in that tiny space. We all have normal bodily functions.

But there are rules, damnit! Anything you leave in that stall should be flushed or otherwise properly disposed of.

Courtesy flushes are also greatly appreciated when things are taking a little longer than we all would like.

If you accidentally dribble or make a mess, for whatever reason, I’m not calling you out if you take the time to clean up after yourself.

But if you’re leaving boogers on the bathroom wall when there is literally an entire roll of paper within inches of your grasp, then you, madam, ARE A SAVAGE!

You are a grown-ass woman, working in a professional corporate environment. Pan for gold if you must, but make use of the tissue that the company has provided to you. IT’S FUCKING FREE!

Miscellaneous Weirdness

Here are some of the other odd moments I’ve encountered in the restroom:

Someone giving themselves a pep talk. I sort of felt bad for this person. Were they trying to steel their nerves enough to go back to work? Were they trying to coax their colon into doing something it didn’t want to? Is life in general just that crappy that you have to give yourself random pep talks on the potty? I have so many questions…

Talking to Jesus. I’m not super religious, but I was raised Catholic. They did teach us that we can pray anywhere, any time, and God will hear us. But maybe if your place and time is in a workplace restroom, you might want to consider a silent prayer? I just don’t feel moved by the Holy Spirit when I’m in the presence of people who are moving their bowels. But maybe that’s just me.

Singing. I’ve heard this more than once. People do everything from humming quietly to singing hymns to belting out Top 40 hits at full volume.

Listen, Lady Gaga…unless you are going to put on a meat suit and perform with ten hot backup dancers, this is likely to be the response you get from me under the partition:

Would-be vandalism. This one baffles me a bit. Again, grown-ass women in a professional environment. Yet, there I sat one day, gazing at the wall when I noticed somebody had started to scratch something into the metal partition between stalls. I leaned in and it was a supervisor’s name and the beginning of what I can only imagine was some diatribe against her.

The would-be vandal never got finished with her thought. She managed to etch the first name and misspelled last name and then the word “is”. That was it. “Jane Doe is”. Except Doe was spelled more like “Do”.

Clearly, you aren’t out to impress if you can’t be bothered to learn the correct spelling of your direct supervisor’s name. I guess you weren’t planning on putting her down for a reference?

“Jane Do is…”

What is she? I want to know. I didn’t know I was going to have to deal with existential ideas while peeing. I was not prepared for this.

“Jane Do is….”

Well, no matter. I can tell you what Jane Doe isn’t.

She isn’t sitting on the pot with a sharp instrument, taking out her frustration on company property.

Jane Doe probably also isn’t impressed with your lack of follow through. If you couldn’t finish defacing the bathroom stall, what else aren’t you finishing?

Final Thought

For as long as there have been separate restrooms, the debate has raged about which restroom must be more disgusting – the men’s room, or the ladies’ room? I know that as disgusted as I’ve always been by things in the ladies room, I’ve always imagined the men’s room to be worse. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived with males my whole life and know just how disgusting it can get?

I decided to take it to the ultimate judge. The person who has to clean them both.

To be discreet, I spoke to her in Spanish so that others wouldn’t know what we were discussing and she’d be more willing to be honest.

So I asked the burning question of the day: Which one is worse?

She kind of smiled nervously and looked around to make sure nobody was listening, even though nobody around us could understand what we were saying anyway.

She leaned over and whispered, “Las mujeres.”

Translation: “The women.”

She went on to tell me that while men are apparently terrible at hitting their target (which I expected), apparently some women are too.

I didn’t expect that.

I mean, how in the actual fuck do you miss the inside of the toilet bowl when you are literally sitting on it?!? I can only conclude that some of you germophobes are hovering instead of sitting and I respectfully refer you back to the paragraph above regarding cleaning up after yourself. AGAIN, THE TISSUE IS FREE. USE PLENTY!

So there you have it. Straight from the expert. We discussed some other gross things that I won’t subject you to here.

Even I have my standards, low as they are.

I have no ending here, other than to recall the words of my cousin Judy: “Some of y’all weren’t raised right.”