Can We Call It A Ladies Room?
OK. I’m going there. I’ve been keeping note of things I see happen in the public restroom located in our building and I just can’t hold back any longer. The Interwebz have got to know my thoughts on this. So bear with me. Or come back tomorrow. It might be TMI for ya.
The Setting: I work in an office that is one of many in a building. We do not dominate the floor (as we’re on level one… or two if you count the basement) so we do not have our own restroom. This is a tragedy and a blessing. But since we do not have our own restroom, we use the building’s public restroom right down the hall. It’s convenient. But I’ve began to notice certain things about the ladies room. Things that just rub me the wrong way.
The Socially Handicapped
I’ve said it a 100 times and I’ll say it again – the bathroom is not a playground. Or a phone booth. So why do women [who I know don’t work on this floor] have private conversations in the restroom? Ladies have sat down on the “bench” to chat, have stood and blocked the doorway to bend another’s ear and I don’t get it. Why would you a) want to sit in a room that filled with disturbing sounds and smells to whine to a co-worker and b) risk getting caught by the person you’re gossiping about. It makes no sense.
The cell phone conversations are a whole different thing. And becoming more and more common. I understand that people are busy and multitasking is a handy thing to do but yuck! Every time I hear someone talking on their phone, I flush the toilet. I enjoy blowing their cover. But one lady stands at the sink with her phone on speaker. And leaves it on speaker as I flush. Um… huh? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a chair or outside? Again, confused. So confused.
There is a locker room downstairs in the building’s gym. But the restroom is transformed some days with make-up and curling irons spread out on the vanity. These ladies are getting ready at work. What? My advice: do this at home. You look like a brazen hussy who shacked up last night and is doing some “last minute” freshening before clocking in. I said it. Brazen hussy. Having your speaker phone on doesn’t help the situation.
The Stall Perferrer
I once read in Seventeen or YM or some teenage magazine long ago that most women prefer the last stall – so the first is usually the cleanest. Since this bit of knowledge has been with me, I’ve always opted for stall numero uno. The thing that irks me is that this stall is almost always dirty. I’m guessing other people read that article too. But I don’t know why they can’t clean up after themselves. We’re all adults, right?
The Scaredy Cat
You’ve heard the phrase “hover or cover” I’m sure. I’m here to tell you that you should just cover. And then dispose of the cover. Because I’m not particularly pleased to see tissue paper that’s touched another person’s butt just hanging out on a toilet. Ew. Just don’t hover – I know you’re the one messing up stall numero uno.
The Jack Haley
Jack Haley is noted as one of the worst NBA players of all times. You know where I’m going with this so I’ll leave out the details. I’m pretty sure the custodial services don’t do the happy dance when they see horrific stalls. If your stomach is that upset, you should consider going home. Blech.
The Cover Ups
What is up with that smelly shit people spray in the air? Your crap doesn’t smell like country apple so quit trying to make believe it does. Instead, flush. That might even help out the Jack Haley folks. Maybe this fru-fru stuff is the reason why womens congregate in the bathroom to chitchat. Well, it’s a theory.
There are women who only use the public restroom on this floor (sadly, the only relieving station I occupy) to go number two. I see you shuffle from the elevator to the restroom and back to the elevator. I hate you. And your country apple poo.
Everything is hands-free except the paper towel dispenser [which really should have been the first automated]. And there are two women who I’ve seen multiple times grab their towels before they wash their hands. This is not the process we were taught in kindergarten! These ladies put their icky hands all over the get-your-paper-towel lever. I glare at them. And walk to the other dispenser to make a statement.
The Group Poop
My coined phrase for when everyone and their sister has come to the restroom to make a deposit. This is everything I hate about this restroom: bad smells, bad sounds, country apple wafting around, stall numero uno isn’t available and someone is always on the phone. Once a Group Poop has been identified, I slowly back out the door and tell myself I can wait 30 minutes.
The Trustful Ones
Like I said, there’s a “bench”. I thought it was a baby changing station but I could be wrong – it’s happened before. But women use it as a bench. To sit and talk. Or throw their bags on. You heard right, they leave their personal belongings (purses, wallets, ID cards, briefcases) by the door, unattended…. could be picked up and carted off by strangers. But they still manage to take their phones to the stall with them. Yep, priorities are in line.