Ah yes…
My office recently moved to a new location. The space is beautiful, and – as a special perk – we’re excited that the new ladies’ room has six stalls, automatic flushers and stall doors that lock. (I know: We’re SPOILED.)
We share our floor with four other tenants, one of whom I met the other day – as chance would have it – in the bathroom. Well, I didn’t really meet her, but I did encounter her.
I entered the bathroom and there she was, a set of feet peeking out of the second stall with pants pooled around her ankles. (Question: have you ever let your pants touch the floor of a public restroom? I go out of my way to hoist them so that my cuffs won’t even touch, but that might be my OCD shining through. Discuss.)
So I entered my stall and heard her talking. At first I thought it was to me, but then I realized – based on the incomplete sentences punctuated by silence – that she was on the phone. I was incredulous.
Also? I did my best to pee as loudly as possible in an attempt to “out” her poor behavior. She remained unfazed.
“Must be talking with a family member,” I thought.
But then she said, “OK, Dave. Thanks for the update. I’ll loop in the home office then circle back to you. Want to send me a meeting invite?” Which clearly isn’t anything you’d say to your spouse, right?
Before she could wrap up the call, I did what any normal person would do: I flushed. Twice. Just to make sure her colleague knew with certainty that she had called him from a bathroom stall.
If it happens again, I’ve already worked out my strategy. I’m going to pound on the stall wall and shout, “My God! Ever hear of a courtesy flush?”
I really love our new office.
pithypants 