Potty Party

Since I've been subjected to the confines of an office once again for the past eight weeks, my peoplewatching radar has really spiked. Truly, when you are imprisoned in a single location for 8+ hours a day, there is nothing more fascinating than observing your coworkers. Especially when they are a rather bizarre bunch. And they pretty much always are.

So, with my return to the office, one of my pet monster peeves has surfaced again. With this I refer to the uncomfortable horrors of the office bathroom.

A representative anecdote:

Two women come into the bathroom. They are having a detailed, professional discussion.

Chat chat chat.
They throw around some statistics and numbers.
Chat chat chat.

They enter adjacent stalls.

Here is a moment that inevitably presents an awkward etiquette dilemma: do you continue talking, or stop the discussion and pretend that the spindly walls of your stall actually provide a semblance of privacy?

They choose to continue talking.

After a few moments, the sound of...intestinal rumbling...echoes loudly from one of the stalls. The rumbler continues talking right over the awkward moment of punctuation. She raises her voice and just keeps on talking, pretending it never happened.

It did happen.
Her discussion buddy knows it happened.
We all know it happened.
We all have ears.

When they exit their stalls they are still talking, unfazed, because nothing has happened.


Moral of the story:
Office restrooms were designed by a cruel architectural demon.
No one - I mean absolutely not a single soul on earth (unless you are a major creep that gets your jollies out of this kind of thing) - wants to be privy to the bodily functions of their subordinates or higher-ups. It is a breeding ground of awkward situations and embarrassment. It should be outlawed.

I can't wait to be unemployed again.